Voldemort's Second Chance
by nebthims
Summary: After being soundly defeated at The Battle of Hogwarts, Lord Voldemort is given a second chance at life. However, is everything as it appears? DH spoilers. AU.
1. Prologue

Prologue

* * *

May 2 1998, Hogwarts Great Hall

"… the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore's last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, it did." Said Harry. "You're right. But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you to think about what you've done… think, and try for some remorse, Riddle…"

"What is this?"

Lord Voldemort, also known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, was seconds away from destroying his nemesis, the one great thorn in his side for the past eleven years, Harry Potter. He was reveling in his victory, despite his forces suffering copious losses. Dumbledore was dead, and the Elder Wand was his to command. Lord Voldemort was pleased.

Until, of course, Potter spewed _that_ dribble from his unworthy mouth. Him! Lord Voldemort! Showing remorse? His "crimes" were merely means to an end, his immortality. He knew no remorse. Those who stood against him deserved no pity, no mercy, and Lord Voldemort was quite happy to oblige them. While Voldemort was mentally scoffing at the idiocy of the Potter boy, he was, of course, blathering on.

"… be a man… try… try for some remorse…"

Voldemort scoffed again at such an outlandish proposal.

"You dare-?" drawled Voldemort

"Yes, I dare," said Potter, "because Dumbledore's last plan hasn't backfired on me at all. It's backfired on you, Riddle."

Riddle! That thrice accursed, _muggle_ name. This boy was quickly growing to be a major source of irritation for the Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort tensed his grip on _his_ wand, the Deathstick. He knew that soon the true duel would begin.

"That wand still isn't working properly for you, because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore." Blathered Potter.

Lord Voldemort almost laughed out loud at the idiocy of Potter's statements. Snape, his faithful servant, killed that old muggle loving fool! How much more defeated did the wand require the owner to be?

"He killed-" began Voldemort

"Aren't you listening? _Snape never beat Dumbledore!_ Dumbledore's death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die undefeated, the wand's last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand's power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!"

Voldemort was quite pleased by this small uttering.

"But then, Potter, Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand!" he crowed triumphantly, "I stole the wand from its last master's tomb! I removed it against its last master's wishes! Its power is mine!"

"You still don't get it, Riddle, do you?" drawled Potter, again mentioning _that_ _name_, "Possessing the wand isn't enough! Holding it, using it, doesn't really make it yours. Didn't you listen to Ollivander? _The wand chooses the wizard_… the Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance…"

Lord Voldemort was beginning to worry slightly, despite his outwardly calm and collected exterior. Potters words were beginning to faze him, perhaps there was wisdom in his request for remorse.

"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."

Malfoy! Lord Voldemort almost span around to smite the whelp on the spot, then he realized how easy it would be to overpower the fool after Potter's death.

"But what does it matter? Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you or me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: we duel on skill alone… and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy…"

"But you're too late. You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him." Said Potter. Lord Voldemort could almost smell the arrogance dripping from the boy. How he hated that fool, smugly twirling that purloined wand.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" said Potter, softly, "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does… I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

The sun suddenly rose at that moment, temporarily blinding the two adversaries. Voldemort took this opportunity to end this conversation, as it was taking its toll on his mind. The Dark Lord kept repeating the words 'show some remorse' over and over in his mind.

'Remorse is for the weak,' he thought, "_Avada Kedavra!_" he yelled

"_Expelliarmus!"_ yelled Potter.

The two spells rocketed towards each other, and met with a glorious burst of golden flame. At that moment, Lord Voldemort realized that he was beaten. He realized that Potter was right, the Wand was not his to command. The spells both soared towards him, and for the first time for many years, Lord Voldemort was truly scared.

Time seemed to slow down as Lord Voldemort surveyed the Great Hall, for what would perhaps be the last time. He looked towards the red-headed matriarch of the Weasley clan, who had selflessly stepped in against his lieutenant, Bellatrix, to defend her brood. Perhaps that was what the old man meant, perhaps _that_ was love.

He imperceptibly turned again, this time looking to the Weasley boy and his mudblood girlfriend. She clung to him as her eyes remained locked on Potter, unworthy thing that she was, and he held her tightly, eyes slowly following the twin spells as they sped toward the Dark Lord. He could see something like respect, like adoration, bereft of fear in both of their eyes. Yes, maybe this too was the love that the Headmaster spoke of.

In the final seconds before the curses struck, Lord Voldemort turned to the red-haired strumpet that had claimed Potter's heart. She watched him with single-minded fascination, ready to step in and save him if need be. The Dark Lord could see that she would die for Potter without a moment's pause, and he could tell that she felt something stronger than anything he had ever known. Surely this is what the Headmaster meant.

As the spells struck the Dark Lord, the Elder Wand rocketing out of his hand, his final thoughts turned to all those he had killed in his long lifetime, and wondered briefly if they had the chance to love as he saw the Weasley girl love. He felt a brief sensation of pity for them, something almost like… regret.

The spells struck, the Dark Lord fell, and he knew no more.

* * *

May 2, 1998, Ethereal Nothingness

Lord Voldemort regained sense of self in a vast, empty plane. He felt unaware of his surroundings, yet reasoned that if he could reason, then he existed. He opened his eyes.

There was a swiftly swirling mist surrounding his prone, naked, reptilian form. His body ravaged from years of tinkering with the Dark Arts, scaled, pockmarked, yet still possessing a snakelike grace. He realized as he surveyed his perfect form that he was naked. While there did not appear to be anyone to witness his splendor, he felt that as he was a Dark Lord, he deserved slightly better than his nakedness. As soon as he thought that, clean robes of darkest night appeared in front of him. He robed himself quickly.

Surveying the landscape once again, he could see the mist slowly coalescing into the vaulted arches of Hogwarts' Great Hall. If he focused his red, slanted eyes hard enough, he could almost see the head's table at the end of the hall. He swiftly walked to the golden throne of the Headmaster, and seated himself. It was quite comfortable, and apparently his contentment was evident on his person, as a voice so succinctly noted:

"Comfortable, are we, _my Lord_?"

Lord Voldemort rose quickly, and turned to face the voice. While the mist was still swirling, Lord Voldemort was quite able to perceive the sallow, batlike form of Severus Snape. He patted his body, searching for a wand, and was quite angry when one was not evident.

"Relinquish your anger, Tom Marvolo Riddle, I am not really Severus Snape. I merely chose a form you would recognize." Said the creature inhabiting Snape's body.

"If you are not that betrayer, then who, pray tell, are you?" requested Lord Voldemort.

"Some call me Mephistolophes, others Lucifer. Sometimes I do prefer a simple Satan, but not many are willing to oblige me that," said the voice, "In any case, you may prefer to call me 'the Devil', although that phrase might be a bit too _muggle_ for you, 'eh Voldy?"

Lord Voldemort seethed slightly at the phrase 'Voldy', then remembered who he was talking to, and his state of weaponry. Immediately, the Darkest Dark Lord to grace Great Britain for millennia dropped to his knees in front of the greasy-haired Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, who appeared to be playing the greatest prank the afterlife had ever seen on his former master.

"My forgiveness, oh Lord of Darkness. I did not know with whom I was speaking," crooned the Dark Lord.

"Rise, my worthy servant, your forgiveness is all but assured. In fact, I'm so very pleased with you that you're being given the opportunity of an after-lifetime." Said Snape.

Lord Voldemort rose swiftly, then realized the implications of what 'Satan' was suggesting. While the Dark Lord was not above consorting with demons to gain power, the thought of an afterlife was quite daunting to his dreams of immortality.

"Whatever you require, oh Lord of Shadows, it shall be done." The Dark Lord was quite adept at groveling, having watched various servants do so for almost thirty years.

"My loyal servant, I require that you return to the land of the living, fulfill your prophesy and claim the rule of Great Britain that should have been yours!"

Lord Voldemort's cold, black heart leapt at the prospect of another chance. He looked 'Satan' in the eyes and, summoning all his cunning, said "I shall do as you command, my liege."

"Excellent! You'll be sent back to… let's say July 1938, a month or so before Albus Dumbledore comes to inform you about Hogwarts. You'll retain full memory of your life when you return, as well as a good deal of the dark enchantments you placed upon yourself. No need to sell your soul to lesser demons, you've got the big one with a contract right here! Consider this a "do-over", as the muggles would say!"

"I believe I like your style, Satan, if not your choice of body. This seems like it's too good to be true, surely there's a caveat somewhere?" questioned Voldemort.

"Ah, well. I had hoped we would come to this. See, if you should _fail_ at killing the Potter boy, as the prophesy commands, you'll be sent straight to the ninth circle of hell, with a spot right next to me in the burning ice. For all eternity. Not to worry, though, you've got the head demon of hell alongside you, nothing can possibly go wrong!"

"Very well then, oh Lord of Darkness, I accept your terms. Return me to Earth, and watch from below as the Wizarding World trembles at the might that is Lord Vol-"

"Great. Down you go!"

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Blackness

Lord Voldemort was suddenly aware of a falling sensation. All around him was blackness, but in the distance below him, he could make out the circular form of the planet Earth. He fell for what could have been years, but was most likely a few seconds, landing in the 10-year old form of his Earthly body.

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

A large number of shadowy forms left the walls of Lord Voldemort's replica of the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Among them were Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, James and Lily Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and countless other victims of the Dark Lord's reign of terror.

James Potter stepped forward. "Well done, Severus, I couldn't have done any better myself."

Lily joined him "Do you think he believed you, Sev?"

Severus looked at James with a distinct sense of disgust, then turned to Lily. "Yes, I do believe he did. The Dark Lord was always blinded by power, he hardly noticed the chuckling from you people."

All present had the decency to look suitably chastised.

Albus stepped forward "Congratulations, Severus. If this plan of yours works, the world should become a much, much better place for all of us."

"We can only hope, Albus, we can only hope."

* * *

Disclaimer: Most of the first section of this chapter was taken from Chapter 36 of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. It's not mine, and on that note, neither is the Harry Potter series, or any affiliated works. This is a work of fanfiction (duh), and I intend to blah blah blah make no money, blah blah blah blah BLAH blah blah blah.


	2. Landing

Landing

* * *

August 9, 1938, Stockwell Orphanage

Tom Marvolo Riddle landed with an undignified 'thump' in his earthly body, which was in the middle of an extremely pleasant dream about a cave near the North Sea. When the ghostly form of Lord Voldemort landed, the two spirits fought briefly for dominance, before the younger recognized itself in the older and allowed entrance. Voldemort woke up from his dream, but as his field of vision was full of violently flashing lights, he collapsed back to his bed and went back to sleep.

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

Albus Dumbledore stepped towards Severus Snape. "It appears as though Lord Voldemort has passed into a magical coma, Severus."

"Yes, I had a feeling that something like this would happen. I can't say it's altogether a bad thing, though, it will allow us time to consider our next moves." Replied Snape

"Our next moves?" questioned Dumbledore, "We cannot risk making **any** moves, Severus! Who knows what kinds of destruction we could cause!"

"Probably a large amount less destruction than would occur without our intervention, having just sent a fully-powered version of the Dark Lord back in time."

"Ah."

"Yes."

James and Lily Potter took this chance to voice their opinions.

"I think we should be able to talk to our past selves, at least a little, to forewarn them and hope for a better future." Said Lily.

"I agree," said James, "Although Harry became a fine young man in our absence, Lily and I would have loved the chance to raise him ourselves, and if we were allowed to intervene, we might be able to have that chance."

Lily promptly burst into tears at this, and James hugged her tightly.  
"As you can see, we both feel quite strongly about this."

Severus looked scathingly at James while he cradled Lily. "I, albeit grudgingly, agree with Potter. I would much like to inform myself of the stupidity of joining the Death Eaters." He drawled.

The three looked at Albus, who refused to budge an inch on his opinion. "We cannot alter the time stream, it would be too dangerous."

"How so?" cried the three of them. They looked at each other, and James and Lily burst out laughing.

"How so?" replied Albus, "How so? I take it none of you have watched _Back to the Future_, have you?"

Albus received three identical, blank stares at this question. He continued:

"Well, I can hardly blame you, James and Lily, it came after your time, but Severus, there is no excuse for missing out on important cultural phenomena, no matter how "muggle" they are!"

Severus glared at Albus. "I can hardly be expected to keep up with _every_ muggle cultural event, Albus."

"Perhaps, Albus, for the benefit of all of us, you would care to explain your question?" said Lily

"Certainly, my child. There was a particularly intriguing example of what can happen as a result of time travel that I felt applied quite well to this situation. The protagonist was sent back in time, and his aged mentor posed the theory that as soon as he went back in time, an altered reality was created as a result of the changes his being in the past caused."

Albus was met again with three identical, blank stares.

"By sending Lord Voldemort into the past, we may have caused our timeline to fracture. In fact, we may all cease to exist in this realm, if our deaths are prevented by actions taken by Lord Voldemort."

Lily began sobbing again, and James looked extremely rapturous. He turned around, and seeing Sirius and Remus conversing, he called to them "Oi! Padfoot, Moony! If Voldemort fu-"

"James!"

"If Voldemort _does something stupid_, we might be brought back to life!!"

* * *

August 10, 1938, Stockwell Orphanage

Lucy Spindle was 10 years old. She had wavy brown hair, a cute button nose, and vibrant blue eyes, which at this moment, were aimed at the sleeping form of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Lucy Spindle didn't know it yet, as she stared at the prone form of the small orphan boy, but she was falling in love with his scraggly black hair, his pointed chin, his fine distinguished features. If 10 year olds knew love, she was in it.

Unfortunately, she also didn't know that Mrs Cole, the Matron of Stockwell Orphanage, was watching _her_.

"Lucy!" shouted Mrs Cole, "Get away from that bed!"

"Shh, Mrs Cole," crooned Lucy, "Tommy is sleeping."

"Sleeping?" questioned Mrs Cole, scathingly, "It's 9:40 in the morning, the boy should be running around outside with the other or—boys. Tom! Wake up!"

She swiftly moved to his side and shook him. The comatose wizard gave no response, though inwardly Lord Voldemort was cursing Satan for his "gift" of seven more years in Stockwell Orphanage.

"Tom! WAKE UP!" she bellowed, "WAKE UP I SAY!!"

Mrs Cole threw her hands into the air in futility, then started whacking Tom with a pillow. Inside his head, Tom seethed at his misfortune, and at the indignity this woman was putting him through. After what seemed like hours (to Tom), Mrs Cole stopped.

"Lucy," began Mrs Cole, "I would like you to stay in here for the rest of the day, looking after… Tommy. If he wakes up, I want you to come and get me straight away, understand?"

"Oooh! Yes, Mrs Cole, yes please!" exclaimed Lucy, "Uh, I mean, of course I will, Mrs Cole."

"… Good, child, good. Try to wake him every so often, he will need food soon."

"I will, Mrs Cole. You can count on me!" said Lucy, with probably more force than she meant to.

"… Excellent. I'll just be going to my office, now. Good day."

"Good day, Mrs Cole!"

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

In the time it took for Lucy to convince Mrs Cole once again of how strange she was, Albus had significantly chastised James for his lack of subtlety, and was now facing a large horde of ethereal ghost-people, all shouting questions at him about their possible rebirth.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began, "Please do not lose your heads about thi—"

"I resent that remark, Albus!" shouted Nearly-Headless Nick

"Yes, thank you, Nicholas, and may I ask what you're doing here?"

"I heard that you were handing out resurrections, and I thought I'd try my luck!"

"I am **not** handing out resurrections, and even if I were, it would only apply to those killed as a result of Voldemort's actions between 1938 and 1998. I believe that you were killed in 1492?"

Nearly-Headless Nick turned an almost imperceptible shade of pink, then slowly faded away.

Albus turned to face the crowd. Most, if not all, of the people present turned and pointed to Sirius, who at least had the guilt to blush wildly at being caught. Albus sighed, and faced the ever-growing congregation of wizards and witches.

"As I was saying, Ladies and Gentlemen, and as you may have realized, I am not "handing out resurrections", and there is really nothing to get excited about. I simply posed the theory that, should Lord Voldemort choose to take actions different to those he took the first time around, you **may** be returned to your bodies. However, I highly doubt that such an event would ever take place." Finalized Albus.

There was a loud groan from most of the members of the crowd, who decided, on that note, to disperse. The remaining people, Sirius, Remus, Severus, Lily and James, crowded around Albus and walked away.

"Severus, tell me. How did you manage to convince those in charge that sending Voldemort back in time would be a good idea?" asked Albus.

"Albus, I'd tell you, but I'm afraid I'd have to kill you." Returned Severus.

Lily, Remus and Albus gasped and stopped walking, causing James and Sirius to trip over each other in an attempt not to squish Lily, and landed in a large pile on the ground. Lily, Remus and Albus groaned loudly.

"And there I was thinking that muggle cultural events were beneath you, Severus." Said Lily.

"Not to mention the fact that we're already dead, so your ability to follow through with that threat would be severely diminished," said Remus, with Albus nodding sagely at his words.

Severus blushed, and said "I'd always wanted to say something like that, especially in response to some of your requests for information, Albus. I had no idea that it was from anything related to muggles, Lily."

James, who had become untangled from Sirius by this point, loudly whispered to Sirius "He's lying through his teeth." Sirius nodded, with a large grin on his face.

"In any case, all I had to do was talk with Satan for a little while, and he suggested that I play a prank on the Dark Lord when he arrived. I suggested that we send him back in time, and Satan agreed wholeheartedly, anarchic beast that he is." Said Severus

"I see," said Albus, "and how did you manage to convince ME that this was a good idea?"

"Of that, I have no idea, Albus." Replied Severus, "I simply assumed that your inhibitions had been loosened after your death, but after seeing the spectacle that you put on today, I have been forced to change that assumption."

James, Lily, Sirius and Remus snickered to each other. "Ass… you… me!" they chanted, then burst into a fresh fit of giggles.

Albus pondered this for a moment, the chortled with laughter along with them. Severus, not wanting to appear stupid against his childhood love, and rivals, laughed weakly with them, while still not quite getting the joke.

* * *

August 12, 1938, Stockwell Orphanage

Lucy sat, resolutely staring at the catatonic wizard who lay before her. Every small twitch was a glimmer of hope in her heart, and several times she had called for Mrs Cole, only to realize that the object of her affections was still sleeping. After the fourth mistaken call, and subsequent bruising, she had stopped calling Mrs Cole.

* * *

August 13, 1938, Stockwell Orphanage

It had been 47 hours, 19 minutes, and about 10 seconds since Mrs Cole had asked Lucy to watch Riddle for any sign of wakefulness. Lucy knew this, because she'd been counting. After memorizing Tom's face ('His very attractive face,' thought Lucy), counting the number of freckles on his nose (6), and raiding his wardrobe for anything interesting to read (nothing, though the number of broken soft toys in the box under his old shoes was quite disconcerting), Lucy was quite despondent that nothing would ever wake Tom Riddle from his slumber.

Lucy was worried, because she didn't seem to have very many friends at the Stockwell Orphanage. Whenever any of her fellow orphans (though she didn't think of them like that, it would be rude) would try to befriend her, they would always somehow get scared away. Especially the boys, none of them had ever, **ever** spoken to her before. Actually, she amended, that's not quite true. Billy Bode had spoken to her once. Just once.

* * *

July 9, 1937, Stockwell Orphanage

Lucy was sitting on what her fellow orphans had affectionately dubbed "Freak Stump". It was a large, lonely stump of a once proud yew tree, which seemed to attract those who could attract no-one else. Naturally, the more vindictive members of the Stockwell family noticed quickly that Lucy frequented the stump as a seat, and named it accordingly.

On this occasion, Lucy was staring at the blank grey walls of the Stockwell Orphanage, hoping that someone would take her away from the drudgery that was being an orphan, when she felt someone tapping on her shoulder. She slowly span around, and there was Billy Bode. Billy was a short, stubby child, with dirty blonde hair and dull brown eyes. These eyes were fixed on Lucy, though, and as it would be impolite not to, she greeted the boy.

"Hello, Billy!" said Lucy

"H-h… hello, Lucy… how are you today?" replied Billy

"Why, I'm quite alright today. How are you?"

"N-n-not bad, Lu— AAAH!" unfortunately for Billy, he was cut off by the sudden apparition of a three meter long, sickly green, Inland Taipan between the two children. Lucy stared at the snake for a moment, before running squealing back into the building. Billy was not so lucky.

He ran away from the orphanage, into a nearby playground, where his body was found, punctured with snake bites, three days later.

* * *

August 13, 1938, Stockwell Orphanage

After poor Billy died, people spoke with Lucy even less, if possible. So Lucy was very, very scared that her new best friend, Tommy Riddle, would leave her, and so she clung very close to him so that he couldn't run away.

* * *

Disclaimer: I may have inadvertently ninja'd stuff from Back to the Future, I was trying for a subtle allusion and nothing more. Don't kill me, Mr Fox.

Big thank you to Her-My-Oh-Knee for being my very first reviewer. A winner is you.


	3. Awakening

Awakening

* * *

August 14, 1938, Stockwell Orphanage

Tom Riddle lay in his bed, seething. While his eyes had been closed, he was fully aware of everything that had happened to his body over the past five days. The indignity of being severely shaken by that overbearing matron, soiling himself, being watched by someone, non-stop, for nearly a week, soiling himself, losing five days of crucial planning time, and did he mention _**soiling himself**_?!

However, not all of his time while comatose had been wasted on brooding over his situation. He had done some careful introspection into his situation, and a large amount of reflection on the events of the pas—next fifty years. He also spent a large amount of time dealing with the grammatical issues of time travel.

Something that not many people know about Tom Riddle, most likely because he would let nobody become close to him, was that he had a perfect photographic memory. He was able to recall even the most minute, insignificant detail about his life, and that had served him well during his reflections.

For instance, he was able to remember that in May 1943, the password to the Slytherin common room was "the Greater Good", that the wallpaper in Harry Potter's bedroom at Godric's Hollow was blue, with golden snitches and broomsticks, and more importantly, that Albus Dumbledore visited Stockwell Orphanage on August 16, 1938. This was important, as if the calendar opposite Tom's bed was on the right month when he landed, it was August 1938, and he had many mental preparations to make before then.

Tom reflected on this for a moment, then noticed that the all-pervading blackness that had surrounded him for an indeterminate amount of time was slowly lifting. Tom experimentally flexed his feet; a searing pain shot through his entire body. 'Apparently,' he thought with an inaudible grunt, 'motion will be quite painful in future.'

Rather than risk another embarrassing muscle cramp, he tried opening his eyes. He was assaulted by a cacophony of lights and colours, nearly blinding him. He tried opening one eye, slowly, slowly, and as the flashing, twinkling colours on his retinas dulled, he was able to see the hunched, pale, and sweating form of Lucy Spindle, staring directly at him.

A tense few minutes followed the opening of his eyes, as the two children looked into each others eyes. Tom, still slightly dazed from his awakening, did not yet realize that the girl had apparently been watching him sleep, and Lucy did not yet realize that Tom was awake, as she had fallen asleep with her eyes open 18 hours ago. Tom elected to deal with the girl when he was more awake, and promptly fell back to sleep.

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

Albus sat with Remus at the head's table, watching James and Sirius prance around in their Animagus forms, chasing after Lily and Severus, respectively.

"Remus," began Albus, tentatively, "I know you're quite excited with the possibility of returning to life, but tell me: are you quite certain that interfering further with the timeline is such a good idea?"

"Albus, I'll be honest," replied Remus, "Nothing would thrill me more than being able to watch my son grow up, free of Voldemort's reign, and if there's a chance that I can make that happen, why shouldn't I be able to?"

"Because our intervention might make the future worse than we can possibly imagine? Because we could do something that could shift the balance of power into Voldemort's hands? It simply isn't safe, Remus!"

"You are not a parent, Albus, you can't possibly understand. A parent will do anything to protect the future of his or her children. Lily or James would tell you the same thing, they will chance the future to help Harry."

"Oh, really?" Albus turned to the marauding Animagi and their quarries. "Lily! James! May Remus and I please speak to you?"

James stopped chasing Lily, and with a small popping noise, returned to his human form. The couple walked quickly over to Albus, leaving Severus to fend for himself against the raging Padfoot.

"Yes, Albus?" said Lily, "What can we do for you on this fine da—occasion?"

"Well, my dear, I was having a discussion with Remus about potentially interfering with the timeline, in order to create a better future for the Light, and by extension, Harry and Teddy. When I said that our actions could open the world up to further exploitation by Voldemort, he retorted with-"

"With the fact that any parent would do anything to help their child?" said James

"--Yes, that. I disagreed with him, so you and Lily are here to mediate our dispute. Is there anything you would not do for Harry?"

"Nothing," said James, "Absolutely nothing. I'd walk over hot coals, kiss Severus, sell Lily into slavery..."

"James!"

"…Hire myself out as a high priced "escort", have puppies with Padfoot…"

"JAMES!"

"… and everything in-between. Yup, there is nothing I wouldn't do for my son."

Albus blanched. He turned to Lily, still fuming at the prospect of being sold into slavery, or being the step parent of mutant-stag-dog babies.

"And you, Lily?"

"As much as it repulses me right now, I have to agree with James. I'd sell my toenails as an aphrodisiac, wrestle with a Troll, stare down a Basilisk…"

"She could do it, her glare is a hundred times more deadly than a Basilisks'" James said, quietly.

"… feed James to a Hippogryph, go on a romantic date with Voldemort…"

"EWW!!" yelled Sirius, who had given up chasing Severus after being turned into a pink bunny rabbit, and wanted to watch the spectacle.

"… and anything else you could think of. I died for him, Albus, what makes you think I wouldn't do anything else for him?"

Albus realised how stupid, and disturbing, asking the Potters for their opinions on the duties of parents. He resigned himself to the possibility that he may have to accommodate the wishes of those among him.

* * *

August 15, 1938, Stockwell Orphanage

Tom woke up with a curious weight on his chest. After cracking open his eyes, he noted two things:

1. There were two large, brown, tawny owls sitting at the end of his bed.

2. There was a suspicious growth attached to his abdomen.

Deciding that the owls could wait, Tom poked the growth between its shoulder blades. It responded with a feminine, high-pitched squeal, then leapt off him, smacking him in the chin in the process. Wincing in pain, he gritted his teeth, then looked to the "growth" once more.

The growth was a girl with slightly dirty brown hair, yet no less vibrant blue eyes, which were once again locked into Tom's. They stared at each other, before Tom cleared his throat and said "Hello there, my name is—"

"TOMMY!! YOU'RE AWAKE!!"

Tom once again felt a suffocating, crushing weight on his chest, and realised that he was being hugged. 'This is new,' he noted, 'I'm normally being reviled for my torturous acts against these people, not being hugged by them.' After about 30 seconds of being clung to, Tom slowly pried the girl off him and looked her in the eyes.

"Hello. You clearly already know my name, but I'm afraid I don't know yours…"

"MY name is Lucy Spindle. I am 10 years old, but ALMOST 11, and you are my new best friend!" squealed Lucy, before pouncing on Tom again and delivering yet another bone crushing hug. Tom searched his vast memory for any mention of this girl. Then, it clicked. She was the girl who nobody liked! That freak girl! He remembered the time he set that large venomous snake appear to try and scare her. What a fun day that was, and such a fine display of his already quite large magical deposits!

"Ah, yes, Lucy," said Tom, "Well, it's very nice to meet my… 'new best friend', but as you may know, even best friends need time alone from each other, and you are a little bit… smelly. Maybe you should go and have a wash, and I'll sit here and read the letters that these quite attractive birds have delivered."

Lucy looked down at her clothes, and took a sniff of them. She grimaced, then slowly backed out of the room, muttering something like "find Mrs Cole…"

Tom watched her slowly retreating figure, then turned to the owls in front of him. He reached for the one furthest from him, only to be rebuked by a sharp stabbing sensation in his hand.

"Owch!" yelled Tom, "Why did you do that? My name is Tom, it's clearly mine!"

He looked at the letter contained in the owl's clutches. On it, in vibrant green ink, were the words:

Lucy Spindle

The Darkest Dormitory

Stockwell Orphanage

London

Tom blanched. 'The girl was a witch?' he thought. He searched his impressive memory banks, but could find nothing referencing a Spindle family, at least not in pureblood circles. 'Oh, delightful,' he pondered, 'my first sycophantic follower is a muggle born! This will not sit well with the Slytherins.'

Tom turned to the second owl, and removed its letter with no trouble.

* * *

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ARMANDO DIPPET

(Order of Merlin, Third Class)

Dear Mr. Riddle,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts

School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all

necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore,

Deputy Headmaster

* * *

Tom smiled, evilly, then appeared pensive. 'If I'm getting the Hogwarts Letter today, then that means that Dumbledore is arriving tomorrow' he thought, 'Interesting that it says "We await your owl by no later than July 31", I always knew that Dumbledore was inefficient and lazy.'

Tom remembered with a start what he had spent most of his time in the coma doing: making a list of everything he was going to have done wrong over the next 50 years. He winced inwardly, silently cursing Satan once again for the grammatical predicament he was in. Riddle looked around for a scrap of paper, then began to write:

Not legally changing my name to Lord Voldemort.Taking 5 years to open the Chamber of Secrets.Not killing more mudbloods with the Basilisk.Being too obvious about getting Hagrid expelled.Letting Dumbledore get suspicious of me.Not claiming the "Heir of Slytherin" as a proper title.Failing abysmally with various Dark Arts experiments.Not protecting the Horcruxes better.Trusting Severus Snape.Not taking the Elder Wand earlier.Attempting to murder the Potters.

'There,' he thought, 'that is a good start. Now, I need to see what I can do to fix them.'

Change my name to Lord Voldemort as soon as I leave Hogwarts.Open the Chamber of Secrets as soon as possible.Kill many, many mudbloods with the Basilisk.Kill a mudblood with Acromantula venom, to further implicate Hagrid, use an imperius-ed student to turn him in.Be a less impressive student.Claim the Heir of Slytherin as soon as I get to Gringotts.Refrain from undertaking the Dark Arts Rituals, besides the Horcruxes – Satan said that I had all of their power already.Bury them all underground, in different nations.Kill Severus Snape as soon as possible.Disarm Dumbledore in a duel as soon as possible.Refrain from murdering the Potters.

As soon as Tom finished with his lists, Lucy returned to the room. She looked at the letter the remaining owl was holding, and exclaimed "Hey, that's MY name!" She ran to the owl, tore the letter away from its claws, and shredded the envelope in her vigour. She read the letter out to Tom, despite him having already read his:

* * *

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ARMANDO DIPPET

(Order of Merlin, Third Class)

Dear Ms. Spindle,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts

School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all

necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore,

Deputy Headmaster

* * *

Lucy gasped. "I'm a witch? A witch? Unbelievable… How special am I, Tom?" she exclaimed

"Very special, Lucy, very special," Tom replied. "I got one too, aren't **I **special?"

Lucy gasped again "You're a witch too?! But you're not a girl… Oh, how exciting for us! But how do we get there? Where do we buy the books? How will we get the money, Tom, we're orphans!"

Tom shook his head at her stupidity. "Don't worry, Lucy, I have a funny feeling that someone will come and help us sooner or later."

* * *

Disclaimer: The text of the Hogwarts Letters was quite obviously paraphrased from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone_. Not mine. JK-What's-her-face's.

Über-special thanks to Her-My-Oh-Knee (again :D), Wand of Destiny, Padfoot is the Bomb, 'R-tom', the good dr., and the 83 people who read this chapter without reviewing. You win the Prize!


	4. Dumbledore

Dumbledore

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

Having finally gotten rid of James, Lily and co., Albus was able to do some serious introspection. Being the cleverly crafty old wizard that he is, he was able to produce an ethereal clone of himself to play Devil's Advocate for him, and debate the pros and cons of interfering further with the timeline. This clone was obviously not perfect, and tended to be a bit temperamental, as Albus had found for himself on many occasions. On this occasion, the clone was in the process of hurling giant balls of fire at Albus for disagreeing with him.

"If you tell your past self all about Riddle," it yelled, "We'll be able to return to life! We'll have a better life, because your past self will be able to put a stop to Riddle before he gets too dangerous!"

Albus dodged a fireball, then replied, "What if my past self thinks I'm a hoax, and aids Riddle too much, and the Dark Lord becomes even more dangerous than he currently is?"

This gave the clone pause, but only temporarily, before he began throwing fireballs with more gusto. "If your past self is **that** stupid, I don't know how you even manage to summon such a creative illusion as myself!"

Albus pouted. "Listen, Clone—"

"Brian."

Albus looked quizzically at the Clone. "Brian?"

"Yes, that is my name. Brian."

Albus mentally cursed his genius, for creating a clone that began to think for itself.

"Alright, listen, _Brian_, there is no way that I'm going to tell my past self of _anything_, because the risks are too great."

Brian glared at Albus, and stopped throwing the fireballs. He had an evil grin on his face, one that Albus knew too well. It was the "I've got you backed into a corner, and you're going to lose" grin that Brian had wore when Sirius was incarcerated, and Albus asked Brian for advice.

* * *

November 2, 1981

"Clone, tell me: What should I do about Sirius Black?" asked Albus

"Sirius Black? The Potters' friend? He's clearly guilty. We know that he was their secret keeper…" said Brian, though he didn't have a name at the time

"But we also know that he would never betray the Potters, he was their best friend." Said Albus.

Brian grinned the evil grin. "Yes, but Gellert was **your** best friend, wasn't he? And he betrayed you by killin—"

Albus glared at Brian, who immediately stopped that train of thought, then continued:

"And then you betrayed **him** by imprisoning him in Nurmengard, and leaving him there for 50 years!"

"Okay, fine. I'll not protest Bartemius' request for Sirius not to have a trial."

"I knew you'd see things my way, Albus."

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

Albus HATED that grin, just like he HATED being proved wrong.

"Albus, have you ever heard of Pascal's Wager?" asked Brian

"No, I don't believe I have," said Albus, "Which raises the question of how **you** could possibly know of something that I don't."

"Never mind that, I'm magical. Remember? Magic?"

Albus glared at Brian.

"Well, a muggle philosopher named Pascal postulated that it was better for them to believe in their notion of God than to not, because they had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. If God existed, in theory they would be rewarded for believing in him upon their death, and punished for not. Whereas if He doesn't exist, they would lose nothing by having believed in him. Do you follow?"

Albus nodded. "But what does that have to do with this situation?"

"Ah, here's the trick: If Past-Albus believes you when you tell him of Riddle's misdeeds, then the world will have everything to gain. However, if Past-Albus doesn't believe you when you tell him, then the world will not have lost anything, as Past-Albus will behave the same way whether you tell him or not."

Albus blanched. He knew he was beaten.

"Very well, Brian, I will try to contact him as soon as I can."

"Excellent, Albus. I knew you'd see things my way!"

* * *

August 16, 1938, Stockwell Orphanage

Tom woke up early, as he knew that he had a big day ahead of him. Albus Dumbledore was coming to inform the "clueless" Tom Riddle that he has magical powers, and that Hogwarts awaits him. Tom was most definitely looking forward to today. If he remembered correctly, Dumbledore was set to arrive at 11:46. Tom checked the aging clock on his wall – 5:28. He decided to spend the next few hours practicing his Occlumency, so as to have a better grasp of wandless magic in future. Tom was one of few who knew that the two disciplines were linked, and was happily proficient in both.

* * *

Lucy, meanwhile, was still awake from the previous night. She had gotten hold of a small stick, and was pretending that it was a magic wand. Twirling around her bedroom, saying nonsense words and jabbing the stick at various animals, she was having a wonderful time.

"Jiggery Pokkery!" she exclaimed, waving her "wand" at one of her roommates' hamsters. "Asplodius! Swooshio! Abra Kadabra!"

A green light shot out of the palm of her hand and struck the hamster. Lucy looked at the stick in awe, then to the hamster. It wasn't moving. She poked the hamster with the stick, rolling it over – it had a look of sheer terror on its face.

While Lucy was quite stupid, she had an idea of the concept of death. Her parents had been beaten to death in front of her when she was six, while she hid underneath a rubbish bin. So, naturally, she was shocked to realise that she had the ability to kill things with magic. The notion frankly scared her; that she had such a destructive power contained within her. Just as she was turning her "wand" on herself, she saw a shiny thing out of the corner of her eye: it was a beautiful silver butterfly. She bounded after it, chasing it out the door of her room and around and around the corridors until she fell asleep.

* * *

Tom opened his eyes. The Occlumency practice did him good, he felt more energised and happy than he had for many years. It might have had something to do with the child's body he was currently in, but he felt more relaxed than anything else. He even felt like he could stand to be around that insufferable Lucy for more than five minutes at a time!

He checked the clock – 10:59. Tom quickly ran into the communal bathroom and washed himself, thanking his lucky stars that today was his turn to have a lie-in. On his way back, he tripped over a small prone form lying on the floor. Said small prone form gave a high-pitched squeal and latched itself onto his leg.

"Good morning, Lucy." Drawled Tom.

"Tommy! Tommytommytommytommy! I did magic! I had a stick and I did magic and I made the hamster die and then I felt bad and I was going to SHINY THING! I saw a shiny thing! A pretty butterfly and I ran after the butterfly and chased it and fell asleep when I couldn't catch her." She looked particularly downtrodden about this. Tom almost felt bad for her.

He thought 'I can conjure butterflies, and it would be a good test of my wandless magic if I did.' He turned away from Lucy, who almost burst into tears, but when he turned back around, holding the biggest silver butterfly that Lucy had ever seen, she looked like Christmas had come early – or at all, since she was in an orphanage.

Tom let the butterfly go, and Lucy watched with fascination as it flittered around the corridor. She chased it around in circles until she fell over, and started crying. Tom swore inwardly. He banished the butterfly, and patted her awkwardly on the head. Lucy immediately stopped crying at his touch, which freaked Tom out a little. Before he could say anything about it, he caught sight of a clock – 11:40.

Tom turned to Lucy and said "I think we need to go back to our rooms now, Lucy, but I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

Lucy smiled and said "Okay!"

They walked their separate ways, both with a smile on their faces – Tom's evil, Lucy's delirious.

* * *

August 16, 1938, Hogwarts

Albus Dumbledore was in a fine mood. Meeting with young muggleborn wizards and witches gave him such a complete thrill, and today he was going to do it twice! He walked swiftly out of his office on the first floor, down the stairs of the great staircase, and through the grounds to Hogsmeade, where he silently apparrated to London.

* * *

August 16, 1938, Outside the Stockwell Orphanage

Albus landed in a dingy street in what appeared to be an even dingier neighbourhood. Walking past a horse drawn carriage, he entered the grounds of the orphanage, not noticing the odd looks he was receiving. Apparently, muggles weren't used to seeing old men with red beards tucked into their belts, wearing purple suits. Who knew?

He stepped up to the door and knocked. At that time, Lucy was just walking past the door on her way to her room. She took a moment or two to recognise what the sound of a doorknock meant, then opened it.

"Good afternoon," said Albus, "I have an appointment with a Mrs. Cole, who, I believe, is the matron here?"

Lucy looked at him with an odd expression on her face, her mind still chasing after the conjured butterfly. She then realized that he was waiting for a response.

"Oh," she said, "I'll go and get her. MRS COLE!!"

"COMING!" shouted Mrs Cole.

"She's on her way," said Lucy, who then continued on her way to her room.

Albus walked into the building, and through the halls until her found Mrs Cole walking out the door of her office. "Hello there," he said, "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me today."

* * *

Tom was walking back to his room when he heard Dumbledore enter. He grinned gleefully, then set off to find Lucy, taking care not to cross paths with the elderly wizard.

He found her standing outside her room, looking bemusedly her doorknob. Tom sighed, and pulled her towards his room. Upon arrival, he sat her on his bed and said "I have a feeling that a man will soon come and talk to us about Hogwarts. Let me do most of the talking, and I'll buy you something nice when we go to get our school things, okay?"

Lucy giggled and nodded her head.

"Excellent. Now shut up."

* * *

"I suppose you'd like to see them?" asked Mrs Cole

"Very much," replied Albus.

"Alright, we'll talk to Tom Riddle first."

Mrs Cole led Dumbledore through the impossibly clean corridors to Tom's room. She knocked on the door, perhaps a few too many times, and Tom opened the door.

"Ah, hello there, you must be Tom Riddle!" cried Dumbledore, "and if I'm not mistaken, this must be dear Lucy Spindle. Delighted to meet you both!"

Dumbledore subtly waved his want, and Mrs Cole ran off, muttering something about burying a rabbit.

"My name, Tom and Lucy, is Professor Dumbledore, and I am the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Tom thought back to the last time this had happened. He decided to be a little bit more tactful towards Dumbledore this time.

"It's very nice to meet you, sir. We, Lucy and I, received our letters yesterday and were _most_ excited to be accepted at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore smiled at the pair. "Excellent! I assume you'd both like to hear something about your new school?" he asked

Lucy leapt up and said "Oooh, yes please!" then remembered that she was supposed to be quiet, and sat back down, staring at Tom.

Dumbledore was unfazed by her silence and focused more on her jubilance, so he began.

"Very well, children, gather round." The two children sat on the floor at the man's feet, who elected to sit on Tom's bed.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was founded about nine hundred and fifty years ago, although nobody quite knows when anymore. It was founded by the four most intelligent Wizards and Witches of the age; Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin."

Tom sat up a little bit straighter when he heard his ancestor's name mentioned.

"They were the best of friends, who all wanted to teach little boys and girls like the two of you how to use their magical powers."

Lucy smiled brilliantly at the mention of magic.

"They set up their school somewhere in Scotland, and protected it against muggles – people who don't have magic, like most of the other boys and girls who live here. It's quite funny that there are two magic people here born around the same time, isn't it?"

He paused for a response, which he got in the form of Tom giggling madly.

"Yes, well. They protected it against muggles, because the muggles didn't like magic people very much back then, and they built a fantastic castle, with beautiful spires, wide halls, and lots of magical artifacts inside. It's a stunning place, with beautiful grounds. I'm sure you'll love it there."

Tom and Lucy were both nodding feverishly.

"The four founders, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, all built dormitories for their students to live in. Gryffindor wanted to teach the bravest and strongest students, because he was brave and strong. Hufflepuff wanted the kind and loyal students, as she was kind and loyal, and quite a good cook, I heard. Ravenclaw wanted to teach the smartest students, because she was very, very intelligent. Slytherin wanted to teach the cunning students, because…"

"Because he was cunning?" said Lucy

"Yes, Slytherin was very cunning. These four dormitories still exist today, and when you get to Hogwarts, you'll be sorted into one of them, where you'll make friends and have classes and sleep. Are you excited, children?"

"Oh yes!" cried Lucy.

"Very excited," said Tom.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Dumbledore. "Now, you received your booklists yesterday, the place to obtain the listed items is called Diagon Alley. If you like, I can take you there today!"

"No thank you, sir, I think we should be fine on our own, right Lucy?" said Tom

"Yep, we'll be alright! But how do you get to Dy-a-gon All-EE?" said Lucy

"You walk to Charing Cross Road, and look for a Pub called the Leaky Cauldron. The bartender is a friend of mine, his name is Tom too, and he'll help you get in there. I'll leave you some money for books and things, as I know neither of you have any."

"Thank you, sir." They chorused.

"It is not a problem, children. Now, unless there are any further questions, I'll take my leave and see you on September the 1st! You will need to catch the Hogwarts Express from King's Cross Station, but I'm sure you children are more than capable of getting there, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, we'll manage." Said Tom.

"Brilliant. I shall see you next month! Oh, but before I leave, Tom, you might like to put out the fire in your wardrobe."

Tom and Lucy spun around, to see his wardrobe burning. Tom looked back to Dumbledore, who was chortling with laughter. A wave of his wand, and the wardrobe was restored. Dumbledore winked, then disapparated.

Lucy turned to Tom "Isn't this exciting, Tommy? Hogwarts, wow!" she said.

"Yes, Lucy, it's all very exciting. We'd better get going to Diagon Alley, otherwise it will be dark by the time we get back!" replied Tom.

"Okay Tommy, let's go!" said Lucy

The two children walked out of the Orphanage, Tom cursing the further corruption of his hated muggle name. 'Tom was bad enough,' he thought, 'what demon thought of the name Tommy?'

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

Snape sat watching Riddle as he walked out of the Orphanage. He was **very** glad he put the idea of the name "Tommy" into the little girl's head. **Very**.

* * *

Disclaimer: Some of the dialogue from this chapter was taken from _Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince_. Not mine.

I don't plan on making a massive habit of responding to reviews, at least not in the story, but I feel the need to respond to this one from **Her-My-Oh-Knee** (again):

_Is the whole Lucy sitiuation something caused by the timeline inconistancy? Will the Potters die? This is going to be a very long story, isn't it?_

Answer:

1. Nope, she's a result of my evil mind giving Voldemort his first real friend. Attribute it to the AU-ness of the story.

2. Maybe :P

3. Very yes.

Further thanks to **the good dr**., and the 58 people (at the time of writing) who read the chapter without reviewing. Hooray for you!


	5. Diagon Alley

* * *

August 16, 1938, Charing Cross Road

"Tommy," began Lucy, "are we th—"

"No, Lucy," said Tom, who believed that this was the 89th time she had asked the same question, "no. We are not there yet. In about three minutes, we will be there. SOON."

"Okay Tommy! Can you find me another butterfly? That was really pretty."

Tom wanted to scream, but he couldn't risk catching the attention of the muggles. For that matter, he couldn't conjure a butterfly to keep her entertained, either. He elected to shut her up the only way he knew how. Steeling himself against what was certain to be a horrible experience, Tom Marvolo Riddle, sometimes known as Lord Voldemort, held the hand of a 10 year old Muggleborn.

Lucy promptly became to giggly to do anything but cling to Tom's hand in the hopes that he wouldn't ever, ever let go. These hopes were dashed 176 seconds later, when the pair reached The Leaky Cauldron. Tom dropped Lucy's hand and strode confidently in, with Lucy following meekly behind.

Tom walked up to the bar, and spoke to the bartender. "Excuse me, sir," he began, "Could you please open the gateway to Diagon Alley for myself and my friend here?"

Tom the Elder pondered the two orphans for a moment, then he grabbed his wand and set off into the alley behind his pub. He tapped the appropriate brick, and sure enough, the gateway opened and the two orphans stepped inside.

* * *

August 16, 1938, Hogwarts

Albus Dumbledore strode back into his office on the first floor, happy that he'd met with two very eager, very polite new students. As soon as he closed the door, however, he was face to face with a very, very old version of himself. He froze.

"Hello Albus," said Old Albus, "I'm you, from the future."

"… Indeed? This is most peculiar. Most peculiar indeed." Replied Young Albus

"Indeed," confirmed Old Albus

"How am I to be sure that you are really me?" questioned Young Albus

"I could tell you something that only we would know, if that would assuage your fears…" posed Old Albus

"That would be most prudent."

"In 1899, our sister Ariana killed our mother, Kendra. Later that year, during an altercation between ourself, Gellert Grindelwald and Aberforth, Ariana was killed. To this day, we do not know who caused her death."

Young Albus blanched. "Yes, I do believe that would be sufficient."

"Excellent. Now, the reason I'm here is to talk to you about a young man who you'll be talking with tomorrow, Tom Riddle."

"Tom Riddle?" gasped Young Albus, "Why, I spoke to him today! Delightful young man, so full of excitement about going to Hogwarts. I was quite impressed with the way the boy handled the news, it showed me a good strength of character."

Old Albus looked at his younger version as if he'd grown a second head.

"Today?" he questioned

"Yes… today. I remember it well."

"Ah. This is most displeasing."

"Displeasing?" scoffed Young Albus, "Whatever could be displeasing about speaking with a delightful young man a day earlier than our memory suggests?"

"You remember I said that I came from the future, correct?"

"Yes."

"Well, in that future, the delightful young man that you spoke to today grows up to be a darker Dark Lord than every other Dark Lord the world has seen. If you were to multiply the darkness inside each of those Dark Lords against each other, you'd perhaps reach two thirds of the Darkness exhibited by the man that Tom Riddle grows into."

Young Albus had a shocked expression on his face for a moment. "Ah, well. That **is** interesting, then, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"How was he stopped, then?"

"Lord Voldemort – that was his name – had become cocky, as he had created a large amount of very dark items, known as Horcruxes. These Horcruxes are items that store a part of the man's soul, which can only be separated by committing a soul-shattering act of evil – murder."

"And he made more than one?"

"He mad 6 – 7, actually, though not intentionally. That brings me to his downfall: in 1981, while interviewing a prospective Divination professor, I was the recipient of a prophesy, concerning the downfall of the Dark Lord. I'll recite it to you now." Old Albus took a moment to compose himself, then recited in a heavy voice:

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives … the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies …"_

Young Albus appeared pensive.

"The boy who vanquished the Dark Lord was known as Harry Potter. I believe you know his grandfather, Charlus. Harry succeeded where I – where we failed, in destroying the Dark Lord's Horcruxes, and I couldn't be more proud of him." Old Albus had a look of intense contentment on his face that shocked Young Albus a little. He pressed on, however, eager to find out more of his future.

"How was it that we failed? I assume that this Lord Voldemort had something to do with it?"

"Yes, that's true. While destroying the only Horcrux I was able to find, I succumbed to a moment of insanity and wore it, rather than destroy it. You see, this Horcrux was the Resurrection Stone, set into the Gaunt Family Ring, and I so dearly wanted to bring Ariana back and apologise to her."

"Oh. So we were killed on the spot for being unworthy?"

"No, the ring had a curse on it, and I succumbed to it months later."

"Ah, I see."

"So, back to the reason I'm here: this Riddle, he will appear to be a model student, and will most definitely deserve to be both Prefect and Head Boy. However, in his sixth year he will both enter the famed Chamber of Secrets, for he is a Parselmouth, and set the monster within, a Basilisk, on muggleborn members of the school. He will also create his first Horcrux around that time, a diary. This is all you need to know for now, I suggest you keep a wary eye on him."

"Thank you, Albus, this knowledge should help prevent our death, and hopefully will prevent tragedy in the future."

"Yes. Good luck to you!"

* * *

August 16, 1938, Diagon Alley

As soon as the gateway opened, Lucy gasped with obvious awe. Tom knew her reaction well, it was the same one he had the first time he set eyes on the Alley. 'It really is a beautiful place,' thought Tom. Lucy grasped Tom's hand, Tom barely stifling a groan, and she set off into the Alley. Tom got out his booklist.

"Right, Lucy, we've got some money, but I want to see if I can get some more. I wonder if there are any Riddle wizards?" Tom took great pleasure in deceiving Lucy, even over something as trivial as this. "I think, though, you should wait outside. I could be a little while, so here's some money," He handed her two galleons. "You can get yourself an ice cream or something. Bye!"

"Bye Tommy! See you sooon!!" Lucy ran off, looking for an ice cream store.

Tom briskly walked through the large bronze doors of Gringotts. He abstained from reading the cautionary poem, the first time had been enough warning. He strode in confidently, ignoring everyone who looked at the strange orphan boy in shabby clothes. When he reached the counter, he looked the Goblin in the eye and said "I would like to claim the ancestral title of Lord Slytherin, and the vaults and properties associated with it."

The Goblin, and everyone else in the lobby, blanched and went silent. All eyes were now on the Goblin, waiting for his reaction. He cleared his throat, and said "If you would please follow me, sir, I will direct you to someone who can aid you further." Tom nodded, and quickly followed the Goblin, who introduced himself as Hodrod.

After numerous minutes of identical halls of gilded marble, Tom and Hodrod finally reached the stately office of the current CEO of Gringotts, Gringott the younger. Hodrod told Tom, "I must leave you here. Good luck, sir."

'Luck?' Thought Tom, 'who needs luck?'

Tom pushed the doors open, then closed them behind him. When he faced into the office, he was greeted with the visage of an appallingly ugly Goblin. 'If this is Gringott the younger,' thought Tom, 'I'd had to see the elder.'

"Greetings, young sir," began Gringott, "and welcome to my bank. I understand that you wish to make a claim to the ancestral line of Salazar Slytherin?"

"Yes, sir, that is correct." Said Tom.

"Excellent, excellent," said Gringott, "we have not had anyone make a claim to his line for centuries. This should prove to be a very interesting day for the both of us!"

Tom inclined his head, and said "If you would, I have other things to attend to today. Could we please begin the testing?"

"Certainly," replied Gringott. He reached under his desk and pressed what was clearly a hidden button. A female Goblin entered the room, holding a large wooden dish and a phial of blood.

"The phial of blood you see there is that of Lord Slytherin himself. Your blood must contain similarities to that in the phial to be considered part of his line. If, and only if, you pass this test, you will be subjected to a test of character from Lord Slytherin. Do you understand?" said Gringott

"I do." Replied Tom.

"Excellent. Now, cut your finger on this ceremonial dagger, and let a drop fall into the dish."

Tom did so, and watched as his blood swirled with Slytherin's. The dish glowed a bright, vibrant green. Gringott cheered.

"Oho! A **direct** descendant! Well, that **does** make things interesting, then. Now, if you would please go through the door to my left, where you will say 'I claim the ancestral title of Lord Slytherin!' and then face a test of his devising. I bid you good luck, sir."

Tom nodded, then walked swiftly through the door. It slammed shut behind him, and he was instantly plunged into darkness. Tom held his head high (although it was difficult to tell in the darkness) and said clearly "I claim the ancestral title of Lord Slytherin!"

His eyes were met with an onslaught of green. 'Damn,' he thought, 'Killed after two days?'

* * *

August 16, 1938, Diagon Alley

Lucy was wandering around outside, still looking for the ice cream store, when she saw a flash of purple out of the corner of her eye. She turned, and before her eyes was the imposing figure of Albus Dumbledore.

"Hello, Mr. Dum-belly-dore!" said Lucy.

Albus chuckled, then replied "Hello Ms. Spindle. How are you faring on this fine day?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Dubbellydore, but I can't find the ice cream store, and I miss Tommy." She said.

"Well, I think you'll find that Mr. Florean Fortescue sells quite delicious ice cream, over there," Albus pointed to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, who waved at the pair. Albus waved back, then continued, "But I'm afraid that I haven't seen Mr. Riddle. Perhaps you'd like to talk to me about him over some ice cream?"

Lucy giggled. She was always happy to talk about Tommy. "Yes please, Mr. Dumb-bell!" Albus led Lucy over to Mr Fortescue's store. They bought ice cream, and sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, before Albus asked Lucy about Tom.

"Well, Mr. Dumbly, Tommy said that he was going into the bank to try and find some more money, and then he said that I should try and find some ice cream. I found the ice cream, but Tommy hasn't come out yet." She said.

"I see. I believe I shall go and investigate at the bank, to see if I can find our young Mr. Riddle. I think it would be best if you stay here, though, and if I see him I will send him over to you." Said Albus

"Okay, Mr. Dumbledo—I mean Dubbydour!" cried Lucy.

Albus winced at this latest corruption of his name, then walked off towards Gringotts.

* * *

August 16, 1938, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Secret Ancestral Claims Room.

Tom waited for the rush of death to reach him. After several seconds, he realised that he was indeed still alive, and opened his eyes. Rather than some unknown assailant casting the death curse at him, he was merely in a room illuminated with vibrant green sconces. Tom let out a sigh of relief, before a ghostly Salazar Slytherin appeared before him.

"Greetings, oh valiant successor to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Slytherin. I commend you for sharing my pure blood." Said the apparition.

Tom bowed low, and said "Thank you, ancestor. I wish to claim your vaults and title. Will you grant me this?"

Slytherin looked at Tom down his long nose, and said in Parseltongue "_What is your name, boy?"_

Tom appeared shocked for a moment, then realised who he was talking to and replied "_My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle._"

"_I don't believe I know of any Ancient and Most Noble House of Riddle, boy."_

Tom cringed before his venerated ancestor. "_My father was a muggle, sir. My mother, Merope Gaunt, was consumed in a delirium and had a child with him._"

"_Ah, the Gaunt Family. Yes, a __**Most**__ Noble House. I cannot say that I am happy about the ancestral title of Slytherin being held by a half-blood, but I cannot deny that you share my gift of the snake-tongue." _Slytherin removed something from his hand, and handed it to Tom. "_From this day forward, Tom Marvolo Riddle, you shall be known as Lord Tom Salazar Slytherin_. _I congratulate you, Lord Slytherin._"

Tom bowed low, then realised that he could solve the problem of his muggle name, thus achieving two of his goals at once,

"_Lord Slytherin, may I make a request?"_ began Tom

"_Yes, my young descendant?"_ replied Slytherin

"_I have long despised the name Tom, and though I much appreciate your gift of a middle name, I wonder if I might choose my own first name?"_ asked Tom

"_Yes, I believe that would be prudent. What would you name yourself?"_ inquired Slytherin.

"_Lord Voldemort Salazar Slytherin, my Lord."_ Grinned Tom.

"_Very well, Lord Slytherin. From this day forward, you shall be known as Lord Voldemort Salazar Slytherin._" Proclaimed Slytherin.

Voldemort grinned a most evil grin, bowed, and left the room.

* * *

Disclaimer: The text of the prophesy is from _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_, but that was kinda obvious.


	6. Ollivander's

Ollivander's

* * *

August 16, 1938, Gringott's Wizarding Bank, Office of Gringott the Younger.

"Ah, welcome back, sir. I trust everything went well?" asked Gringott.

"Yes, sir, you are looking at the new Lord Slytherin." Replied Voldemort.

"Well, congratulations, my Lord! If it would please you, I can go over the contents of your estate now?" questioned Gringott

"Yes, that would be most prudent." Acquiesced Voldemort.

"Well, my Lord, apart from the quite sizable Slytherin family vault, you own controlling shares in several Quidditch teams; the Ballycastle Bats, the Caerphilly Catapaults, and, I'm sorry to say, the Chudley Cannons, at least half of Knockturn Alley; including several apothecaries, the noted Borgin and Burke's, as well as a Dark Arts bookstore, half of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—" Gringott was cut off, as Voldemort had a pressing question

"Pardon me, Gringott, but did you say **half** of Hogwarts?" asked Voldemort

"… Yes, half of Hogwarts. Apparrently, Gryffindor lost his share of control of Hogwarts to Slytherin in a bet, which was the impetus for their legendary feud." Said Gringott.

"Interesting. Please continue."

"Where was I? Oh yes, half of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and several properties all over the British Empire. You also command an interestingly large number of oaths of fealty, from several well-known families of our world: the Malfoys, the Parkinsons, the Crabbes, the Goyles… it's quite a remarkable list, my Lord. You may be interested in looking at it…" said Gringott

"Perhaps later, I have things to attend to today." Replied Voldemort.

"Very well, my Lord, and would you like to look at your ancestral vault?" asked Gringott

"I shall retrieve some galleons, as I need to run several errands in the Alley, but I will be back later today." Answered Voldemort.

"Excellent, my Lord. Simply excellent. I can't begin to express to you how proud we at Gringotts are to have the Slytherin account back in activity." Gushed Gringott. Voldemort was beginning to grow weary of the Goblin, but he kept himself in check, as he would need the support of the Goblin Nation in the future.

"Oho, what's this? It seems as though there's a certain Professor of your school causing a ruckus in the lobby… demanding to see a Tom Riddle. You wouldn't know who he is, would you, Lord Slytherin?" asked Gringott, slyly.

Voldemort gave Gringott an imperceptible look, then shook his head.

"Very well, my Lord. I have sent for 1000 galleons to be retrieved from your vault, they will be available at the clerk's desk for you to pick up on your way out." said Gringott.

"Excellent. The Slytherin House is grateful for the assistance of both Gringotts and the Goblin Nation, and hopes that their ventures be profitable in future." Said Voldemort, who then bowed and left the office.

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

Sirius was sitting with Remus underneath a tree, while Lily and James were off telling each other how much they love each other, or some such. The two Marauders were discussing Remus' relationship with Tonks, something which both intrigued and repulsed Sirius, probably due to his close **platonic** relationship with his cousin. 'No "Kissing-Cousins" in the Black family,' he thought, 'or none worth mentioning in polite conversation, anyway'.

"I just don't see how you can live without utter devotion to one person, Sirius," said Remus, "it really gives your life meaning."

"Meaning? I had a long-term girlfriend once. I say 'long term', as it felt like a prison sentence. If by 'meaning', you mean 'crazy, clingy lady who calls at inappropriate hours and always wants to be near you, yet needs large amounts of chocolate to keep happy', then yeah, it gives your life meaning."

Remus looks chastised. "Tonks doesn't need **that** much chocolate…" he said.

"We're dead, Remus, we can't taste food. And anyway, it all seems a bit much like the Death Eaters, doesn't it?"

Remus looked at Sirius like he was wearing Dobby's tea cosy. "Death Eaters, Sirius?"

"Yeah. Undying devotion to one person, 'till Death do us Part', a mark signifying your union… just because one mark is a ring and one mark is an enchanted tattoo, I still say it's the same."

"Oh really. Let's go ask someone, 'eh? OY! SEVERUS!" Remus yelled.

Severus, who was in the middle of awkwardly entertaining a large group of teenaged girls, who all appeared to have "I 3 Snape" T-shirts, quickly ran over at Remus' call.

"Thank you, Remus, I thought they'd never go away." He turned to the fangirls, who all giggled and ran off. "Crazy children. What can I do for you.. fine gentlemen?" he drawled.

"Well, Severus, I was talking to my good friend Sirius over here about commitment, who decided that a relationship lasting longer than one night was a lot like joining the Death Eaters. Since you're clearly our expert on this subject, perhaps you'd like to clue us in?" said Remus

"As much as I hate to say it, Remus, I agree with the mutt. There's the unending devotion, the worship of one person, the mark signifying the union… Not to mention the fact that women on a whole appear to be as impossible to please as the Dark Lord."

Remus glared at Sirius, who burst out laughing at this statement. Sirius took the glare as his queue to stand up and dance a victory jig with Severus. James and Lily took this opportunity to return from their rendezvous, and promptly joined Remus in laughing at Sirius' antics. Severus looked at them all quizzically, not seeming to realise that he'd made a cunning double entendre.

* * *

August 16, 1938, Gringott's Wizarding Bank, Main Lobby

"Mr. Riddle!" cried Dumbledore, as Voldemort exited the series of tunnels that lead from Gringott's office. "Mr. Riddle, please, let me speak with you."

Voldemort paused, then inwardly flinched. He had changed his name for a reason! He never, ever wanted to be referred to as 'Mr. Riddle'. He looked scathingly at Dumbledore. "That, _Professor,_" he began, icily, "Is no longer my name."

Dumbledore appeared shocked for a moment, then began "Mr Riddle, I assure you that Gringott's does not have the authority to change the name of a minor, even if they wish it so. You would need a parent or a magical guardian to do that for you, which happens to be m—" Voldemort cut him off.

"I said, Professor," he switched into Parseltongue before continuing, "_that is no longer my name_."

All those in the vicinity were shocked. Firstly because they had witnessed a Parselmouth speaking, which hadn't happened since Salazar Slytherin himself. Second, because said Parselmouth had just rebuked one of the most popular Transfiguration Professors that Hogwarts had ever known, and third because they couldn't decide which to be more shocked about.

"My name, Professor, is Lord Voldemort Salazar Slytherin."

If those in the vicinity thought they were shocked before, they were in for a rude surprise. This boy, claiming the ancestral title of Slytherin? Dumbledore was inclined to agree with the crowd.

"Mr. Riddle, that is simply not possib—" he stopped, when Voldemort extended his hand. Clearly visible on his middle finger was the Slytherin Family Ring. He raised the finger at Dumbledore. "Your lack of faith is disturbing, Professor." Voldemort dropped his hand. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment to keep."

Voldemort nodded curtly to Hodrod, who was openly gaping at the scene, then left the bank.

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

"Hey guys, check this out!" yelled James, from the Ethereal Viewing Platform. "Voldemort just claimed the Slytherin Ancestral Title and changed his name!"

Lily, Sirius, Remus and Severus ran over and looked into the Viewing Platform. "Holy crap!" said Sirius, "He's richer than both of us put together, James!"

"Not only that, Sirius, but he also owns **half** of Hogwarts! Half!" said James, a little bit too loud

They all cringed. As did Albus, who was secretly listening from behind the Viewing Platform.

"He'll be able to do whatever he wants, James!" said Remus, "this is seriously not good!"

"Yeah!" said Sirius, "if **we** had owned half of Hogwarts, we would have got so much more pranking done! Totally not fair!"

Lily and Remus glared at Sirius, while James and Albus chuckled quietly. Severus spoke up.

"I'm beginning to think that sending the Dark Lord back in time wasn't the best idea I've ever had," he said.

"Things are looking pretty grim," said Lily.

"Yeah," said James, "but even if the world is destroyed, sending Voldemort into a coma and watching that old lady beat him up made it totally worth it!"

* * *

August 16, 1938, Diagon Alley

Voldemort strode quickly towards Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. He hadn't had ice cream there in years, and was quite looking forward to it. He especially loved the Bertie Bott's flavour that Florean made, it was a different experience every time. The only thing that would detract from his enjoyment was—

"TOMMY!!"

Voldemort looked up and saw a flying mass of wavy brown hair descending upon him. It was too late to dodge, so he allowed himself to be knocked over by it.

"Tommy! Tommytommytommytommy!! I was so lonely and I couldn't find the ice cream and then I saw Mr. Dummy and he took me to get some ice cream and then he went to the bank and found you and now we can get some more ice cream!"

'Oh look,' thought Voldemort, 'It's Lucy.'

"Hello, Lucy. Let's go get some ice cream, then you can tell me all about Mr. Dummy, and I can tell you all about what happened at the bank." Said Voldemort, with absolutely zero intention of telling her what happened at the bank.

The pair sat down at one of the tables, and Lucy started staring at Voldemort. More specifically, at his hand.

"Tooooommmyyyyy! You got married at the bank? Why didn't you tell me? I'm so sad!" wailed Lucy.

Voldemort was sorely tempted to whack Lucy over her head, but decided against, as they were in public. 'One of these days,' he thought. As Lucy continued to wail, Voldemort realised that he'd have to tell Lucy a little bit of what happened at the bank, otherwise she'd never shut up.

"No, Lucy, I didn't get married. This ring means that I'm the boss of an old Wizarding family." He explained, gently.

"Oh, okay then Tommy." The tears stopped instantly. 'How do they **do** that?' thought Voldemort.

"Actually, Lucy, while I was at the bank I also got my name changed as a part of the 'making me the boss of the old Wizarding family' ceremony. You can't call me Tommy anymore. My new name is Lord Voldemort Salazar Slytherin." Said Voldemort, while mentally cheering his cunning.

His jubilation was short lived, however, as Lucy said "Lord Voldy.. Sally… Silly!" Voldemort smacked his head against the table to keep from beating up the poor girl. He stared down towards hell, knowing that if he were to ever end up there, Satan would be in **big **trouble.

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

"Lord Voldy… Sally… Silly!" came Lucy's voice out of the Ethereal Viewing Platform. James, Remus and Sirius burst out laughing. "Best. Afterlife. Ever." Said James.

Sirius stood up, grabbed Remus, and the pair of them jumped around the Platform, yelling "Voldy Sally Silly! Voldy Sally Silly!" James sat watching, as there weren't very many interesting things happening in the Ethereal Nothingness, and he wanted this to be burned into his memory.

* * *

August 16, 1938, Diagon Alley

"Voldy, when are we gonna get our wands?" asked Lucy.

Voldemort groaned. Voldy was much, much worse than Tommy.

"Right now, Lucy. Let's go!" he replied.

The two orphans walked towards Ollivander's wand store. Lucy ran inside, while Voldemort followed more demurely than he should, being a Noble Lord. As such, the door to the store almost smacked him in the face on the way in.

Voldemort remembered the last time he had spoken to Ollivander. It had been an enjoyable evening, filled with torture and new learning. Voldemort had been glad to do it, the old man scared him.

"Ah, Lord Slytherin. It's a pleasure to meet you at last, I was quite excited to hear that the Ancestral Title of Slytherin had once again been bestowed. I believe my family had an oath of fealty to yours, so any wands you buy shall be given freely." Said Ollivander.

Voldemort was impressed. If only he'd claimed the Ancestral Title of Slytherin last time around, things would be so much simpler!

"Now, Lord Slytherin, would you or your attractive friend like to go first?" asked Ollivander. Voldemort was bemused. 'What attractive friend?' he thought. 'Oh, her.'

"Have Lucy go first, Mr. Ollivander. I have a feeling that I might take a while." Said Voldemort. He assumed that he would be given his yew wand with Fawkes' feather in it.

"Very well, Lord Slytherin. Here, my dear, sit down. Which is your wand arm?" he asked.

"Umm… I use my right hand to write." Replied Lucy

"Excellent. Now, try this wand. Holly, 14 inches, with a dragon heartstring."

Lucy grabbed the wand, and waved it towards the front windows of the store. The windows exploded outwards, showering shoppers with glass. Ollivander snatched the wand, and handed her another. "Maple, 15 inches, with a unicorn hair."

Lucy swished the wand. A beam of light shot out and struck Ollivander, turning him into an owl. Lucy gasped and dropped the wand. Voldemort laughed out loud.

With a pop, Ollivander returned to his normal form. "**Definitely** not." He said, taking the wand. "Let's try this one, yew, 13 inches, phoenix feather."

Voldemort blanched. Lucy grabbed the wand and gave it a wave. Vibrant black sparks emanated from the tip. 'Damn!' thought Voldemort. 'That was MY wand!'

Ollivander looked at Lucy with an expression of utter fear. He quickly masked it, however, and patted her on the head. "Well done, Lucy, That is your wand, and I believe it will serve you well."

Voldemort, who had noticed the look of fear on Ollivander's face, asked "What do black sparks mean, Mr. Ollivander?"

Ollivander glared at Voldemort, who glared back. "Black sparks, Lord Slytherin, mean that the witch or wizard is particularly gifted in magic, and is quite powerful. It also means that they will probably be suited to Slytherin, although I have yet to prove this theory."

Voldemort looked at Lucy with a newfound sense of respect. 'Powerful? Her?' he thought.

"Excellent, thank you. Now, for my wand?" asked Voldemort.

"Yes, very well. Try this wand, willow, with a unicorn heartstring." Said Ollivander, "very odd wand, this one was."

Voldemort scoffed. 'Unicorn heartstring?' he thought, 'no thank you.'

He lazily waved the wand. Pink sparks emanated from the tip. If he concentrated **very** hard, he could almost see that the sparks were heart shaped. Voldemort cursed inwardly.

Ollivander cheered. "Excellent, Lord Slytherin! I had a feeling that this wand would choose you, the Great Slytherin had a very similar wand. He was just as proud as you seem to be to have such a delicate wand, as well."

'Proud?' thought Voldemort.

"Thank you both for choosing Ollivander's," said Mr. Ollivander. "Take care of your wands! Goodbye!"

Voldemort grabbed Lucy and walked out. He had found another reason to kill and torture Ollivander. He prayed that nobody would find out about his wand.

* * *

Disclaimer: The line "_Your lack of faith is disturbing_" is stolen from Star Wars Episode 4: A New Hope. The line "_one of these days_" is stolen from The Honeymooners. Neither are mine. Don't sue.

Thank you to Her-My-Oh-Knee for reviewing twice (don't feel bad about missing a chapter, at least you're reviewing!), and to the 41 people who read the last chapter without reviewing. You're awesome.


	7. Stockwell

7 - Stockwell

* * *

August 16, 1938, Diagon Alley

"Voooooldy! You promised you'd buy me something!" yelled Lucy.

"Indeed I did. But instead, how about we go on a rollercoaster ride? Then we'll get to my bank room, and I'll give you something from there. Okay?" responded Voldemort.

"Okay!" said Lucy, "But what's a rolly-custard ride?" said Lucy. Voldemort abstained from answering. The pair walked in relative silence back to Gringotts, with Lucy stopping and staring at whatever shiny thing caught her eye on the way.

They walked through the big brass doors of Gringotts, with Lucy stopping to read the inscription on the doors. She struggled with some of the big words, and had to get Voldemort to read it to her. He did so, grudgingly.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed, _

_Of what awaits the sin of greed._

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors,_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"Don't worry, Lucy," ended Voldemort, "the Goblins don't bite too much."

Lucy was shaking as the pair stepped through the doors and through the (thankfully cleared) lobby. Voldemort stepped up to Hodrod's counter again.

"Greetings, Hodrod. I wish to enter the Slytherin Ancestral Vault." Said Voldemort. Thankfully, there was no frenzied gasping this time.

"Very good, Lord and Lady Slytherin," said Hodrod, "I shall escort you down now."

Lucy gasped at this proclamation, and a massive smile burst open on her face. Voldemort groaned. 'She'll be thinking about _**marrying**_me now!' he thought.

"Just Lord Slytherin, Hodrod, she is no Slytherin." Replied Voldemort, curtly.

Lucy's face fell momentarily, then she remembered that she was going on a rollycoasty ride with Voldy, and she started smiling again.

The Goblin and the two orphans reached the mine carts. They piled into one, and it shot off into the tunnels.

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

James, Sirius, Remus and Severus sat around the Ethereal Viewing Platform, laughing at Voldemort's predicament.

"First he finds a sycophantic little girl who wants to be his girlfriend," began Severus. "Then said little girl dubs him 'Tommy'," continued Sirius.

"So he changes his name to prevent her doing that, and she finds a way around it, renaming him 'Voldy'," roared Remus with mirth.

"Then she thinks that she's his Lady!" concluded James, with tears in his eyes.

The four men looked at each other, then said "He's so screwed" in unison, and started laughing again.

* * *

August 16, 1938, Gringott's Wizarding Bank, Underground

"WEEEEEE!!" screeched Lucy.

Voldemort was seething with rage. He had hoped that the cart rides would make Lucy sick, but no, nothing ever goes to plan for an evil genius. So naturally, she loved the 'rollycoasty'.

Mercifully, the path to the Slytherin vault was a direct one, through thousand-year-old bedrock. Voldemort's suffering was short, but no less intense than the Cruciatus curse.

"We're here, Lord Slytherin. Please step out of the cart." Said Hodrod

"That was fun, Voldy! Let's do it again!" yelled Lucy, attracting the momentary attention of several passing carts.

"No, Lucy, we have to go inside the bank room and look for things. Lead on, Hodrod." Replied Voldemort.

Hodrod directed Voldemort to place his ancestral ring into a indented mark on the door. Voldemort did so, and after several moments of whirring and clicking noises coming from the vault door, it slid open noiselessly.

Voldemort, Lucy and Hodrod were blasted with a wave of gold that cascaded out of the vault. They were buried under a massive mountain of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. Hodrod cast a spell to banish the gold back into the vault, taking a small amount for himself as payment.

Voldemort and Lucy walked inside the vault. Apart from the aforementioned mountains of gold, the Slytherin vault contained several large suits of armor, countless paintings, a full case of weapons (that Voldemort resolved to peruse as soon as possible), armoires stuffed to the hilt with elegant clothes, a bookshelf filled with grimoires that simply _oozed _dark magic, and hundreds upon hundreds of other artefacts that the House of Slytherin had accumulated over the centuries.

Voldemort had a look of exquisite glee etched upon his face. Lucy was salivating at the prospect of playing dress-up with the pretty clothes. Voldemort turned to Lucy, "You can take **one** dress, and **one** piece of jewellery. **Only ONE EACH!**" he intoned.

Lucy nodded, then took off towards the largest armoire. Voldemort stalked over to the weapons cabinet. In a place of prominence in the centre of the cabinet was a dark willow wand, on a green cushion. It had an aura of extreme power that Voldemort was suitably impressed with. He tapped the cabinet with his Ancestral Ring, watched it slide smoothly open, then grabbed the wand.

Immediately, pink heart-shaped sparks leapt from the tip of the wand, in far greater numbers than with the wand he had just brought. Voldemort cursed inwardly. 'Why did it have to be pink?' he thought.

He continued searching the weapons cabinet. He saw a pair of elegant black wrist holsters, which he equipped immediately, slipping his wands inside them. An embossed heart appeared on the exterior of the holsters. Voldemort cursed again. 'Hearts! Why? Slytherin must have had a sick sense of humour…' he thought.

Just as he was about to cease his search, he happened upon an exquisite sword. The blade (which was longer than his leg, Voldemort noted) appeared to shimmer lightly with evil, and the emeralds set into the hilt shone with an unholy darkness. Voldemort lifted the sword and swung it experimentally. The sword shone with a pink hue, which then diminished and was seemingly contained within the emeralds. Voldemort noted that after the pink mist had dispersed, the emeralds appeared **much** less green and **much **more red.

Voldemort rooted around in the cabinet for a scabbard. Finding one to his liking (which promptly turned pink and embossed itself with a heart), he sheathed his new sword, and set off to find Lucy.

The girl in question was currently buried under a large pile of enchanted robes, which appeared intent on strangling her. Voldemort said (in his best 'Dark Lord' voice) "I command you as Lord Slytherin to release this girl!"

The robes fell limp. Lucy gingerly picked herself up from the ground and leapt on Voldemort, squeezing him so tightly he could barely breathe.

"Thanks Voldy! I think I like that black one." She picked up an ornate black set of dress robes, and held it up against herself. "Isn't it pretty?"

"Yes. Very." Replied Voldemort, dully.

"But maybe I like** this** one more…" she said, this time with a frilly pink robe.

"It also looks good." Intoned Voldemort, with an air of someone who wanted to be as far away from this conversation as they possibly could.

"This one, Voldy?" she said, holding up a deep purple set of robes.

"Yes. It looks good." Languished Voldemort. 'Helping a 10-year-old girl pick out dress robes is **not** behaviour befitting a Dark Lord!' he thought.

"How about **thi**—" began Lucy, before she was cut off.

"I don't care!" shouted Voldemort, "Take them all! They all look good on you! Even those orphan rags look good on you! I! DON'T! CARE!"

Lucy looked at him as if he was slightly on fire. Voldemort sniffed. He smelled smoke. He quickly searched himself, and found, to his dismay, that the cuffs of the robe he was wearing were burning. Burning, with vibrant, pink, flames.

Voldemort swore. The flames went out.

"Okay Voldy, I'll take all of them!" said Lucy, as though nothing had happened. "Now, let's get some necklaces!"

* * *

August 16, 1938, Gringott's Wizarding Bank, Slytherin Ancestral Vault – (Four Hours Later)

Voldemort was one angry, bored, and severely emasculated Dark Lord. In the end, despite Voldemort's assertions to the contrary, Lucy had decided that none of the necklaces looked good on her, and so she took all of them. By the time they had woken an angry Hodrod, and returned to the surface, it was dark outside.

Voldemort turned to Lucy. "Grab my arm," he said.

Lucy was ecstatic. She clung to his arm with the strength of a python. Voldemort groaned. He turned on the spot, and apparrated the pair of them to a dark alley next to Stockwell.

Lucy looked at him strangely. "How did you do that, Voldy?" she asked.

Voldemort gave her his best "Dark Lord" grin. "Magic," he said.

* * *

August 19, 1938, Stockwell Orphanage, Voldemort's Room

"Voooooooldy! VOOOOOOOOLDY!" came a shrill voice from the corridor outside Voldemort's room. He cursed inwardly.

"Come in, Lucy."

Lucy opened the door, then ran across the room and jumped onto Voldemort. He groaned.

"Voldyvoldyvoldyvoldyvoldy!! Where have you been? We got back from Dyegon alli and then you went into your room and didn't come out and I was lonely so I started playing with the hamsters again but then I remembered what happened last time I played with the hamsters so I went to sleep and then I woke up and then I got lonely and bored and so I came here and what are you doing?" she asked.

Voldemort took a moment to decipher the large jumble of words that Lucy had thrown at him.

"I'm trying to make a magic shield, called a ward, that will stop the Mini—the bosses of Magic from seeing when I do magic." He replied.

"Ooooh! Does that mean that I might be able to do magic too?" she asked.

"You can try some now, the ward I have will block little spells. Slytherin's wand is really quite powerful, even if it **does** have pink heart-sparks." Replied Voldemort.

"Okay Voldy, teach me some magic! How do I disappear and reappear places like you did?" she requested.

"That magic trick is a bit advanced, I think." He said.

Lucy looked like she was about to cry. "But I wanna disappear sometimes!" she bawled.

"Okay, okay, calm down. It's a hard spell, but you might be able to get it. You have to think about where you really, really want to be and then **make** the magic take you th—" he was cut off, as a weight the size of a 10-year-old-girl suddenly landed in his outstretched arms.

Lucy looked deeply into Voldemort's eyes. Voldemort looked back. The two were silent for a moment, before Voldemort realised that a 10-year-old had apparrated. He dropped her in surprise.

"I did it!" screamed Lucy. "I did it! I disappeared!!"

Voldemort was stunned. He shook himself out of it, then said "Okay, do it again."

He was immediately knocked over by Lucy's apparrating form. 'Holy moly.' He thought.

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

"James! James! Come here, quick!" yelled Lily, from the Ethereal Viewing Platform, "Voldemort's girlfriend just APPARATED!"

James appeared at Lily's side as though from thin air.

"Holy cow, how did you do that?" she asked

"Magic," he said, "now what's this about a 10-year-old apparrating?"

"Voldemort taught his girlfriend to apparrate. I have **no** idea how." She replied.

"ALBUS! Albus Dumbledore!" yelled James

Dumbledore appeared next to him.

"Yes, James?" he said.

"Voldemort's gal-pal just apparrated!" yelled James.

Dumbledore blanched. "That is… not good." He said.

* * *

August 26, 1938, Stockwell Orphanage, Voldemort's Room

Voldemort was trying to sleep after an exhaustive week of discoveries and tests. He had spent the better part of it attempting to break through a barrier he found in Lucy's mind, after casually using his Legilimency on her. It was an exceptionally strong barrier, one rivalling Voldemort's own Occlumency barriers, and he considered it a personal challenge to be able to break it.

Prolonged Legilimency, however, is not something that most wizards are able to maintain, and despite Voldemort's heightened magical powers, he still could not attempt to break into someone's mind for a week straight with no repercussions. As a result, he was lying on his bed, with all the drapes closed, with a severe headache, as well as a bad temper. A temper which was about to be broken.

Voldemort noticed a loud popping noise in his bedroom, second before he was crushed by Lucy's falling weight. "OOF" groaned Voldemort. "Lucy, I'm trying to sleep. Practice your apparation later."

"But Voldy, I was lonely. Look into my eyes for hours again!" she cried.

"Ughh. Fine." Voldemort sat up, and stared into Lucy's eyes, engaging his Legilimantic powers. He left the earth in a swirl of lights.

* * *

August 26, 1938, Lucy's Mind.

Voldemort touched down inside what appeared to be a vast desert. Present in the desert was a small wooden shack, with a large steel pipe leading into the biggest bubble that Voldemort had ever seen. Previous incursions into Lucy's Mind had proven that the bubble was all but impenetrable. Voldemort, however, was not one to give up. After a week of failure with attempting to pop the bubble, he resolved to try a different tactic.

Voldemort strode over to the shack. He flung the door open, and saw an emaciated figure sitting in the corner, on a small pile of potatoes and rat corpses. The smell was sickening. Voldemort cast a bubble-head charm, ignoring the emaciated form of Lucy, and focused on the steel pipe.

The pipe in question had a faucet situated above a large steel basin, filled with a liquid so purple it seemed black. Voldemort poked the tap above the faucet. A large stream of the purple liquid seeped out of the faucet, quickly flooding the shack. Voldemort turned the tap off, and watched as the emaciated version of Lucy absorbed the liquid.

The figure glowed black for a few moments. It was a black so profoundly dark that the deepest pits of Voldemort's soul were rocked by its evil. Lucy stood up.

"Greetings, Lord Voldemort, and welcome to my mind." Said Lucy.

Voldemort was shocked. The Lucy in Lucy's head appeared to be much smarter than the one in reality! "Hello, Lucy. I must say, your mind is rather sparse." Said Voldemort.

"I am well aware of this fact, my Lord, and perhaps I shall explain this to you at another time. However, the magic you released will only sustain me for so long, so I shall be brief. You must enter the dome, and destroy it. Only then will the Lucy you see before you be present in your reality. Good luck."

Voldemort felt himself being pulled by his navel, yet the pull was much stronger than any portkey. With minimal resistance, he allowed himself to be pulled away from the mature, brilliant, and immensely more attractive version of Lucy than the one he knew.

* * *

August 26, 1938, Stockwell Orphanage, Voldemort's Room

Voldemort touched back down inside his room. Lucy had fallen asleep on his bed, and Voldemort quickly did the same. 'Talking with alternate versions of his associates was straining,' he reasoned, before collapsing on top of Lucy into a blissfully ignorant slumber.

* * *

Disclaimer: I can't remember whether or not I stole anything while writing this chapter. If I did, and you recognise it, point it out to me (it's midnight and I'm tired, and sick).

Ooh, what a convenient segue into why it took me a week to write 2500 words, rather than a day: I've been really quite sick recently, as well as having to do assloads of schoolwork, and real life just generally kicking my ass. I know it's not really an excuse, but I'm using it as one, dammit!

Thanks to Skippy Agogo, the good dr., Athena Hermione Ravett, SexyKnickers, art drawn by vomit, and Her-My-Oh-Knee for your kickass reviews (especially Her-My-Oh-Knee, because reviewing every chapter is pretty damn win), and the 76 people who read the chapter without reviewing. You guys rock.


	8. Hogwarts Express

Hogwarts Express

* * *

September 1, 1938, Stockwell Orphanage, Voldemort's Room

Voldemort work with a start. He looked at the clock on his wall: 10:48am on September 1st. He swore inwardly, trying to remember what he'd done that could have knocked him out for five whole days.

'Let's see,' he thought, 'there was the ward-weaving, that was slightly strenuous, but not enough to knock me out. I have no idea how I did it!'

It was at this point that he surveyed his body. Attached to one of his legs was the sleeping form of Lucy. He swore inwardly again, before poking Lucy solidly in the ribs. She squealed.

"Voldy! Why did you do that!" wailed Lucy, "I was sleeping!"

"I did that, Lucy, because we have to be on a train in exactly 9 minutes. I hope you're packed for Hogwarts!" he said cheerily.

Lucy blanched, then disappeared with a pop. Voldemort chuckled to himself. He waved his wand over his bedroom, then watched as his Hogwarts gear flooded into the trunk he found in the Slytherin vault. 'Hearts,' he thought, 'why hearts?'

He checked the clock – 10:54. 'Plenty of time,' he thought. He then apparrated with his trunk into Lucy's room, where she was sitting on her bed, fervently chanting "Pack, pack, pack, pack." She looked up when Voldemort apparrated into her room, and suddenly all of her school gear appeared inside her trunk with a deafening crack. Voldemort was stunned. He knew that **he** was capable of such powerful magic, but he hadn't assumed that Lucy was.

He checked his watch – 10:56. "Lucy, we have to go **now**," Said Voldemort, "Grab my arm."

Lucy grabbed his arm with gusto, and her trunk with slightly less, then Voldemort apparrated them both to King's Cross Station. They appeared right in front of the barrier between the station proper, and Platform 9 and ¾, and almost crashed into an over-eager first year student who was running at the barrier. Voldemort dove out of the way with Lucy, and the crisis was averted. Voldemort checked the clock above the barrier: 10:57.

He grabbed onto Lucy again, and dragged her onto the platform. There, in front of them, was the majestic visage of the Hogwarts Express. The giant red train had never looked so inviting, mainly because Voldemort was tired of carrying two trunks and a struggling 10-year old, and because Lucy hadn't ever seen it before. They ran onto the train, mere seconds before it took off towards Scotland.

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

Severus was sitting underneath a tree with Remus and Albus, discussing just how powerful the incarnation of the Dark Lord truly was.

"Tom was always a powerful child," said Albus, "In his first year, he blasted a 6th year student across a room for laughing at him, and then there's the obvious accidental magic that he had been performing for years,"

"Powerful enough to apparrate at the age of 10?" said Remus, sceptically, "I highly doubt that anyone since Merlin has had that much power."

"Forgive me, Remus, but what you know of the Dark Lord could be written on a packet of Drooble's Best. His acts of magical terror were world renowned; it's highly likely that this is simply his natural power manifesting itself with his enhanced knowledge." Said Severus.

"Are you certain that he wasn't sent back with his full powers?" asked Remus.

"Positive," said Severus, "that would have ruined any chances of the events of the last 50 years going any differently."

"I can see that we're not going to get anywhere by simply bantering amongst ourselves," said Albus, "let me teach you a technique for advanced self-bantering."

Albus concentrated hard on a blank patch of air in front of him, and shortly a slightly-transparent version of himself materialised.

"Evening, chums," said Brian, "what are we bantering about this time?"\

"Brian, this is Severus Snape and Remus Lupin. I want you to teach Severus how to create a clone of himself, while I teach Remus the same. We're bantering about whether or not the Dark Lord that we sent back to 1938 is as powerful as the Dark Lord that Harry Potter destroyed in 1998." Said Albus.

"Oh, brilliant, I'll have an army of dissenters to argue with!" exclaimed Brian, cheerfully.

Brian flounced happily over to Severus, and dragged him under a tree.

"Excellent. Now, Remus. The trick to the self-banter spell is that you don't think about the actual casting of it. It works in a similar manner to the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts; you merely wish that you had a version of yourself to banter against and he will appear. Try it now," said Albus.

Remus concentrated hard at the air in front of him. A few seconds later, a ghostly (not unlike a patronus) wolf appeared in midair, barked at the pair, then disappeared. Remus glared, while Albus laughed.

"While that was a quite talented non-verbal, wandless patronus, Remus, it was not what we were looking for."

Remus appeared shocked. "I did a patronus **wandlessly**?" he said.

"Yes, but let's focus on bringing out the inner you. Concentrate, Remus."

Remus concentrated, and a ghostly version of himself appeared in front of him.

"Wotcher, Remus, m'name's Lowell. **Most** delighted to make your acqu—" Lowell was cut off by an angry, angry man yelling at an apparition.

"GRUMPY?! YOUR NAME IS GRUMPY?!" screamed Snape. "WHY COULDN'T YOU HAVE A **GOOD** NAME, LIKE 'ADOLF' OR 'BRUTUS'?! **GRUMPY!!**"

"I'm sorry I can't live up to your expectations of yourself, Severus, but really I'm just a reflection of you." Said Grumpy. Grumpy himself appeared almost exactly like Severus, if Severus were a "little person".

"AARGHHH!!" yelled Severus, "This is all **your** fault!" he yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at Brian. "STOP LAUGHING!!"

* * *

September 1, Hogwarts Express, Cabin #66.

Voldemort hadn't meant to pick Cabin 66, but the religious overtones seemed to call to him in a way unlike any other. 'Besides,' he had thought, 'the Basilisk head knocker and the gothic gargoyle over the entrance are **sure** to keep unwanted nobodies out.'

He was wrong.

As soon as he opened the door, he realised his mistake, for there sitting in a window seat was a small girl with dark black hair, no older than 12, reading an impossibly large Transfiguration text book.

Voldemort went to leave as soon as he entered, but was blocked by the rapidly moving form of Lucy, who, after slamming into him, caused them both to topple over into a pile of contorted limbs and awkwardness.

"… Hello," said the girl, "My name is Minerva McGonagall, what are yours?"

"My name, little girl, is—" began Voldemort, before he was cut off by Lucy

"My name is Lucy Spindle and I'm 10 and almost 11 and this is Lord Voldy Sally Silly." She said.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Lucy, and you as well, Lord Voldy Silly Sally." Said Minerva, with a barely-restrained smile.

"Thank you, Lucy. My name is Lord Voldemort Salazar Slytherin," said Voldemort, "but you can call me—" he stopped, realizing that there was absolutely **no** way that he would be able to make his name any shorter without it losing most of its dignity. "You may call me Voldemort." He ended, lamely.

"Very well, Lucy and Voldy…mort." Giggled Minerva. She then blanched. "Did you say **LORD SLYTHERIN**?!" she shouted.

"Indeed I did, Minerva. I claimed the Ancestral title of Slytherin a little more than two weeks ago." Replied Voldemort.

"Well, I suppose that leaves no question as to where **you'll** be sorted then, does it?" she said, with the barest hint of disappointment in her voice, a Gryffindors were most definitely not allowed to associate with Slytherins, and the Dark Lord-in-training was growing on her.

"I do believe so, yes. I'm quite hoping to be sorted into Slytherin, and it should be rather interesting to observe the reactions on the faces of the students and facul—" he paused again, realizing that every teacher at the school was under his employ. 'Where does Hogwarts get its money?' he thought.

"and faculty," he ended.

Minerva giggled. "You're a strange one, Voldy…mort. It's a shame I'll have to pretend that I've never met you and that I hate you when you're sorted."

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

"HO-LY mmmph" yelled James, before he was muffled by a just-as-shocked Lily, who fortunately had more tact than her erstwhile husband.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have a shocking piece of news: 12 year old Minerva McGonagall is flirting with 11 year old Voldemort!" yelled Lily.

There was a dead silence in the Ethereal Nothingness. You could have heard a pin drop. Albus fainted.

* * *

September 1, Hogwarts Express, Cabin 66.

"So, Minerva, my dear, what brought you to Cabin 66? Was it the Basilisk doorknocker, the gothic gargoyles, or the religious overtones of the whole "number of the beast" thing?" asked Voldemort

"None of them, silly, Cabin 66 is simply the furthest one from the front. If the train were to crash, I'd be the safest back here." Said Minerva, with wide eyes.

Voldemort was stunned, a little, by her blatant statement of fear, but was even more stunned by what happened next.

Lucy, who had been watching the two pre-teens flirt back and forth for a good hour or so, was slowly growing ever more impatient with **her** Voldy. 'Voldy is **mine**!' she thought, 'and its staying that way!!"

She thought back to everything that Voldemort had taught her about magic in the weeks before September 1st.

* * *

August 19, Stockwell Orphanage, Lucy's Room

The pair of orphans were sitting on Lucy's bed, with Voldemort lecturing Lucy about the mechanics of magic.

"The most important thing that you have to remember about magic, Lucy, is that all the pretty words and wand-waving won't do anything if you don't **want** something to happen. The words and wand-waving can help stupider people to concentrate, but that's the lazy way of doing magic," Said Voldemort, "now try and turn the bed into something more comfortable."

Lucy concentrated on the bed, and wanted, no, **wished** that it would become a king-sized double bed with Egyptian Cotton sheets and a mattress stuffed with Unicorn hair.

POOF The bed disappeared, and was instantly replaced with a bed exactly as Lucy had described it.

Voldemort was slightly taken aback, but pushed the information aside and pressed on.

* * *

September 1, Hogwarts Express, Cabin 66

Had Voldemort paid attention to the enormous magical potential that Lucy had, he might have been less surprised by what she did in retaliation for what she perceived as infidelity. Being the egomaniacal person that he was, however, he didn't, so he was surprised as everyone else when the Hogwarts Express drew to a sickening halt with an almighty crash of steel against stone.

Minerva had flipped across the cavern and landed in Voldemort's lap, who was nursing his neck, as it appeared to have a severe case of whiplash. Lucy, _miraculously_, was unharmed. The same could not be said for the rest of the train.

The caboose had been decimated, as well as the first three carriages. Some of the students had been thrown clear, but many were trapped in the wreckage. Lucy, of course, didn't know this, as she was intently focused on the fact that her elaborate distraction had not, in fact, caused Voldemort to pay more attention to her, and had brought Minerva even closer to **her** Voldy!

Seething with rage, Lucy sat back down and brooded as to what she would do next.

* * *

Disclaimer: I probably stole something somewhere, if you notice something that stands out as not being mine, it probably isn't.

A bit of a darker chapter this time, maybe, but whatever. Forgive me for not updating for a while, but it's almost exam week, and I've been sick, blah blah blah.

Next up: The Sorting, where we get to laugh at my contemptible lyrical ability.

Thanks to Her-My-Oh-Knee (I came, I saw, I spammed), SexyKnickers (indeed she is), the good dr (I'm feeling better now, thank you :P), Athena Hermione Ravett (moar Brian, just for you :D), Skippy Agogo (we'll see ;D), and the 99 other people who read the chapter without reviewing. You're all winful.


	9. Aftermath

Aftermath

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

There was silence in the Ethereal Nothingness as James, Lily, Remus and Severus were reeling after watching the Hogwarts Express stop, seemingly under the control of a 10-year-old girl, while Albus lay on the ground, still passed-out after watching a 12-year-old Minerva McGonagall flirting with an 11-year-old pre-Dark-Lord.

James opened his mouth to attempt to say something, but couldn't find the words. A small whimper that sounded suspiciously like "mimblewimble" snuck out of his mouth. Lily watched the Ethereal Viewing Platform with tears rolling down her face, she had always had a soft spot for the Hogwarts Express. Remus and Severus alternated between looking at the Platform, and looking at each other with shocked expressions on their faces.

Lily broke the silence with a gut-wrenching sob, and leapt over Albus' prone form to cling to James, knocking Remus and Severus over in the process. Albus woke from his shock-induced slumber to find a terrified werewolf and a horrified Potions Master lying on his chest, with Lily clinging to James for her afterlife. He looked at James, and asked "What did I miss?"

* * *

September 1, Hogwarts Express, Cabin 66

Voldemort looked around the gothic-themed cabin at the two girls he shared it with. Lucy appeared to be constipated, perhaps, or slightly ill. He put her out of his mind and focused on the soon-to-be-Transfiguration-master who was currently sitting on his lap.

"Are you alright, Minerva?" he asked, forcing concern into his voice.

"Why, yes, Lord Slytherin, I'm fine. Luckily I landed on something soft." Replied Minerva, with a saucy giggle.

Lucy twitched. Voldemort dismissed it as nothing important.

"Well, I'm very glad that you're alright. Now, what say we see what happened to this train? Lucy, will you guard our belongings? I would be most grateful if nothing were to happen to them." Said Voldemort.

Lucy smiled brilliantly, but then frowned at the thought of **her** Voldy going somewhere with another girl. 'He said he'd be grateful, maybe he'll let me hold his hand again!'

"Okay Voldy! I'll stay here, you find out what happened!" replied Lucy, happily. She leapt out of her seat and hugged Voldemort. He cringed, his neck was still sore from the train accident. Over his shoulder, and against his knowledge, Lucy and Minerva were staring daggers at each other. If looks could kill, both girls would be lying on the ground with expressions of sheer terror etched on their faces, and Voldemort would have several students to _Obliviate_.

Lucy stepped back, smirking at Minerva. Minerva saw this as the challenge it was, and hugged Voldemort from behind with one arm, her other slowly massaging his neck. His eyes rolled back into his head from how nice it felt. Minerva took the opportunity to stick her tongue out at Lucy. Lucy responded with a two finger salute, along with her own tongue waving a jaunty hello. Minerva sensed that her massage should draw to a close, so she grabbed Voldemort's hand and led him out of the cabin without a word to Lucy.

Lucy twitched again, and inwardly seethed that her Voldy was going somewhere without her. She took to her task of securing their belongings with gusto.

* * *

September 1, Hogwarts Castle, Staff Room

"… and **that**, dear Professors, is why we should abstain from provoking Peeves any further. While the Bloody Baron can control him, Peeves' fear is irrational as the Baron is a ghost, and thus cannot do any physical harm to him. Any questions?"

The members of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry sat in stunned silence as Professor Dumbledore stood at the head of the table, his props of a slime-covered doll wearing Gryffindor robes and a merrily cackling miniature-Peeves dancing around the table. The pint-sized poltergeist was lobbing balls of a sticky, green, jelly-like substance at the poor doll, who looked quite disgruntled about the whole situation. On closer inspection, the jelly-like substance was in fact snot, which could possibly explain the dolls predicament, and that of Professor Merryfeather and his Charms Apprentice, Filius Flitwick, who were closest to the demonstration and received a good deal of the missed shots.

"No questions? Excellent!" Dumbledore clapped his hands, returning the doll and the poltergeist to their original sizes, and removing a good portion of the snot from the doll. "I'd like you all to thank Peeves and Mr. Potter for their assistance in this demonstration."

The staff clapped weakly as Charlus Potter shook the last of the snot from his robes. Peeves exclaimed "Thanks for letting me snot up Charlie before the school year, professors! Though there ain't nothing irrational about the Baron, Dubbydour!" he then flew through a wall, cackling madly. Charlus stepped forward.

"Professor, if I may, there IS a reason that I was here so early, if you don't mind me explaining?" he said.

"Why of course, my dear boy, please go ahead." Projected Professor Dippet, from the end of the table, who appeared quite happy to be done with Dumbledore's messy demonstration.

"Professors, the Hogwarts Express has derailed! The engine was completely destroyed, as well as the first few carriages! And…" he paused, to wipe away a tear, "Harold, the driver…" he valiantly tried to continue, but broke down and wept in Dumbledore's arms.

"Charlus, please, tell me – is your father alright?" asked Dippet.

"N—no, sir. He didn't survive the crash. I checked to see if he was alright, then apparrated here as soon as I could. I don't know the status of anyone else on the train, I'm sorry." Replied Charlus.

"That's quite alright, my boy," exclaimed Slughorn, "why don't you head on up to Gryffindor and rest a while?"

"That's a very good idea, Horace," said Dumbledore, "Could you please escort Mr. Potter to his dormitory – the password is _Switching Spells_ – while the rest of us apparrate to the wreckage and assist the students?"

"Certainly, Professor. Come along, m'boy! I'll fill you in on the first Slug Club meeting on the way!"

* * *

September 1, Hogwarts Express, Hallways of Carriage 7.

"So, Voldemort…" began Minerva, "Where did you get a name like that?"

Voldemort turned and looked deep into her eyes, utilizing his Legilimency to check her intentions. Sensing no humor, simply a desire to know more about him, he answered.

"'Lord Voldemort Salazar Slytherin' was not my birth name. When I claimed the title of Lord Slytherin, Salazar gave me this new name, which is much more fitting to the title than my birth name." he replied.

"What **is** your birth name?" enquired Minerva.

Voldemort glared at her, and briefly considered which curse to use on her for her impudence. He searched through his memory for the most painful, torturous curse he could think of. '_Crucio_, no, too simple, _Sanguofuore_, no, too messy, _Arborcranius_, no, too obvious…' He then remembered where and who he was, and reconsidered. Snapping back to reality, he was rewarded with a terrified expression on Minerva's face. He used Legilimency on her once more, and realized that his eyes had flashed burning red while he searched his vast memory. He cursed inwardly, then cast a glamour on his eyes to prevent them from showing any but his deep blue.

"_Obliviate_. You have just heard that Lord Voldemort Salazar Slytherin was not my birth name, and are about to ask what my birth name is."

"Oh, sorry Voldemort, I mustn't have been listening. What was your birth name, again?" intoned Minerva.

"My birth name was Tom Gaunt, after my father." Replied Tom, craftily, "I did not feel that Tom was an appropriate name for the Heir of Slytherin, so I asked Salazar to change it. He was good enough to grant me his name."

"Wow," said Minerva, "do… do you think that I could call you Tom? If that's alright? It's a lot easier to say than Voldemort…"

Voldemort once again considered cursing this impudent whelp, but quickly reigned in his temper in order to prevent mass hysteria.

"Certainly, Minerva. I suppose, for my… friends, I can make an exception." He silkily replied.

"If you're going to be in Slytherin, _my Lord_, I don't think that we can be friends." Said Minerva, with a saucy wink.

"We will see, Minerva, no man can truly say that he knows the future, can he?" replied Voldemort.

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

With a swirl of mist, several dozen new specters appeared in the Ethereal Nothingness. They were met by Albus Dumbledore (the elder), James and Lily Potter, and Sirius Black.

"Greetings, friends, and welcome to the afterlife. My name is Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledo—"

"HOLY CRAP, DUMBLEDORE DIED IN THE CRASH!" yelled one particularly dim Hufflepuff third-year, Algie Longbottom.

"Shut it, you, he wasn't on the train." Said a Ravenclaw sixth-year, Desiree Abbott.

"THEN WHO IS THAT?!" cried Algie.

"I assure you, young Algie, that I am Albus Dumbledore. However, I am not the Albus Dumbledore from the timeline you previously existed in, I died in the year 1997. However, myself and several others who stand with me, as well as others who do not, were allowed back to view the events of an experiment as they transpire, which sadly appear to have cost your lives, and for that, I apologise. Now, go wander these ethereal plains, as your deceased relatives may wish to speak to you. Harold Potter, could you give me a moment of your infinite time?"

"C-certainly, Professor Dumbledore." Said Harold, as he pushed through the throng of newdead ghosts.

"Harold, I'd like to introduce you to your grandson, James Potter, and his lovely wife, Lily Potter." Said Dumbledore

"Holy crap, Prongs, he looks just like you!" exclaimed Sirius, "he's even got that same stupid haircut!"

"Hey!" yelled Harold, James and Lily, who all proceeded to look sheepishly at each other.

"You go, Lily," said James

"Thank you, dear. Hey! I like James' hair like that!" yelled Lily.

"Hey! I happen to like my hair this way!" exclaimed James.

"Hey! This haircut is all the rage at the moment!" cried Harold.

"So the legendary "Potter Haircut" is all your fault, then…" said Sirius, pensively, a rare moment for him.

"Harold, it appears as through your death is our fault. We sent the mind of the recently deceased – for us, anyway – Dark Lord Voldemort back into his 10 year old body without considering the consequences, and this accident appears to be one of them. For that, I am eternally sorry." said Dumbledore.

"No matter, Albus, it was bound to happen eventually. Now, what's going on with this Dark Lord?" replied Harold.

"Let's go look at the Viewing Platform," said Lily, "Last I heard, he was still flirting with Minerva McGonagall."

* * *

September 1, Outside the Wreckage of the Hogwarts Express.

"Could all first-years please come over here, please?" yelled Professor Dumbledore, his voice magically enhanced by the _Sonorous_ charm. "All first-years, to me please!"

Voldemort heard the booming voice of his hated Transfiguration professor, and extended his glamour to cover the burgeoning look of hatred on his face with one of passive terror. He said goodbye to Minerva, and walked swiftly back to Cabin 66.

"Lucy, we have to— OOMPH". His command was cut short by a girl-shaped projectile slamming into his chest.

"Oh Voldy I was so scared and lonely without you and I was worried that you were going to go away with that awful Minerva girl and leave me alone so I stayed with our stuff to keep it safe so you'd like me and then a little boy came in looking for a toad and he was going to take our stuff but I looked at him and said 'abra cadabra' and he fell down so I pushed him out the window and then some girls came in and they said they were looking for a boy who was looking for a toad but I got scared so I said 'abra cadabra' and they fell down too so I pushed them out the window as well and now I'm hungry and I miss you and when can we eat Voldy I'm hungry?"

Voldemort took a minute to catch his breath and re-unscramble his brain. 'So Lucy doesn't like Minerva, that's a pity, I plan to see quite a lot of the dear Transfiguration expert, if I can turn her against Dumbledore she would be quite the loyal, and useful, follower.'

"Everything is fine, Lucy, we just have to take our stuff and get off the train. Professor Dumbledore wants all the first-years to come to him. Let's go, Lucy." He said, carefully not mentioning Minerva. He offered his hand to Lucy, which she gladly took. The two first years pulled their trunks (Voldemort had attached wheels and handles to them) out of the train and over to Dumbledore.

"Ah, To-Lord Slytherin, Lucy, very good to see you alright and unharmed. If you would grasp this ring between you, and say my surname, it will whisk you away to Hogwarts' guest chambers where the first-years will be staying tonight. Thank the heavens that you are alright, now I must be off…" he said.

Voldemort pried his hand out of Lucy's iron grip and grabbed the offered ring. Lucy put her hand on top of Voldemort's and began attempting to say Dumbledore's name, while Voldemort watched with ever increasing glee.

"Dubblemore. Dummbydour. Dubblemore. Domblemoor. Dinglefloor. Danglebore. Dumbdemort. –" Voldemort took great offense at this one – " Bubblegum. Bumblebee. Bumbermoor. Bumberbum. Blunderbum. Bubblebum. Boogerbore. Breadboard. Brainbemo—"

"Dumbledore," Voldemort intoned clearly, and the pair were whisked off to Hogwarts, the navel pull giving feelings similar to a warm familiar hug to Voldemort, and a gut-wrenching carnival ride to Lucy.

* * *

I offer no excuses for the 6 month pause between these two chapters, apart from laziness, getting a girlfriend (come to think of it, that happened almost exactly the same time I stopped writing. Coincidence? I think not!), highschool exams, university starting, a promotion at work, intermittent internet shortages, computer issues, and nargle infestations.


	10. Sorting

Sorting

* * *

September 1, Hogwarts' Guest Wing

Voldemort and Lucy appeared with a great 'pop'. Voldemort immediately set to work weaving wards around their small room, to keep prying eyes, ears, and noses out of his business – some Dark Arts are particularly pungent – while Lucy immediately set to work trying on the gowns she took from the Slytherin vault, for the 47th time this week.

Voldemort was finished within 15 minutes, but Lucy decided to spend several hours trying on different combinations of gowns, robes, and jewelry, to her intense delight. Voldemort, meanwhile, decided to make use of the quiet to begin work on the assigned homework for the first month, for both him and Lucy.

Contrary to popular opinion, Voldemort took great care of his followers, the Dark Mark infusing them with great magical strength, making the difficult Unforgivable spells simple to cast. It also allowed him to sap this strength from them, should he ever require it, and use a simple form of Legilimency on their thoughts at all times, to ensure loyalty. Lucy, his first follower, was extremely lucky to be in a position to benefit from Voldemort's extensive knowledge and perfect memory, allowing them both to complete their assignments in advance. Voldemort enchanted two quills to begin work on the assignments – one in his handwriting, one in Lucy's (with Lucy's assignments being slightly different, and a lower quality, to those of Voldemort's). With his quills set to task, Voldemort turned his attention back to Lucy.

Casting a light Legilimency probe, Voldemort once again entered Lucy's mind. The sight presented immediately brought back the memories of his last attempts to enter her mind, and of the beautiful, intelligent version trapped there.

* * *

September 1, Lucy's Mind

Voldemort found himself once again in the vast, barren wasteland of Lucy's mind. He ignored the giant bubble for now, and moved swiftly to the small wooden shack. He once again cast a bubble-head charm, and entered. The same stench of death and rotting potatoes assaulted his charm, causing him to wrinkle his nose both in his mind and outside. He waved his wand in complicated runic patterns near Lucy's head, casting an arcane, ancient diagnostic charm.

The charm informed the Dark Lord that Lucy had been the victim of hundreds of memory charms as a youth, over a period of 6 years, literally shredding her mind and stunting her intellectual growth severely. He moved once again to the tap capping the thick steel pipe, and released another stream of the viscous, deep purple liquid into the shack. The liquid quickly overflowed the basin beneath the pipe, and began to flood the small room. Voldemort could sense the dark magic contained within the liquid, so dark it made his hair rise and his magical core long to connect to it. The liquid rose, quickly, already covering his feet. He watched as the emaciated form of Lucy was slowly submerged in the thick, gooey dark magic.

As the magic was just about to cover her face, Voldemort turned the tap off. Immediately, the magical liquid seemed to be absorbed into Lucy's body, making it glow with an unearthly light, so deep a purple it seemed black. Her body gave a slow, bone-wracking shudder, and her eyes opened.

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

"Hey, guys, holy crap!" yelled Remus, "Look at Voldemort's girlfriend!"

James, Sirius, Severus and Albus rushed over to the Ethereal Viewing Platform (Lily was consoling recently deceased first-years, and Harold was visiting his deceased relatives). Upon seeing what Remus called their attention to, they all gasped in unison, attracting chuckles from Sirius and James, and glares from Remus, Severus and Albus.

Lucy was glowing with a deep black light, her body levitating a good two feet off the bed. Combined with the robe she was wearing, a black gown with deep purple trimmings, she cast a terrifying visage.

"Albus, what do you make of this?" asked James

"I'm afraid I don't know, James," Albus replied, wearily, "Her visible aura suggests that she is quite the powerful witch, especially at such a young age. The deep purple, almost black colour, however, suggests such an affinity towards the dark that it makes me fear for Tom – not even his aura was that dark, or that terrifying. What do you think, Severu—Severus?"

Severus was unable to answer, as he was currently joining Remus in rolling around on the floor laughing at Sirius, who had transformed into Padfoot, covered his head with his front paws, and wet himself.

* * *

September 1, Lucy's Mind

"Welcome back, my Lord." Intoned the suddenly very attractive Lucy. "You only have limited time here, else the magical backlash will knock you out for another week. We have time enough for me to explain how to remove the protective dome over my mind, but it will take more time than we have for it to be done."

"Very well, Lucy," said Voldemort, "How is it done?"

"You must talk with me in the real world about my parents. You must force me to remember them, the love they had for me, and exactly how they died. You must force me to remember their love, and the hatred I felt for the one who ruined them. And then, my Lord, you must empathize with me, and the barrier will begin to crumble through our shared experience. Once this happens, glimpses of the true me will begin to show through in reality, and I shall give you more instructions at that time. Do you understand, my Lord?" explained Lucy

"Yes, faithful servant, I understand. It shall be done." Said Voldemort.

"Excellent, my Lord. Now, you must leave, but before you do, please turn the tap leading to the protective dome back on, as it will aid my recovery." Asked Lucy.

"As you wish, Lucy." Said Voldemort, before tapping the tap with his wand and watching as the viscous black liquid began to once again flood the shack.

"Goodbye, my Lord. May we meet again soon," said Lucy, before dropping to the ground and convulsing wildly, splashing the liquid everywhere. A small drop fell into Voldemort's mouth, accompanied by a look of sheer terror on Lucy's face as she dropped back into unconsciousness.

Immediately, power darker than any he had ever known began coursing through Voldemort's body. He fled Lucy's mind, to better adjust to this new power.

* * *

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

"Shit! Now look at Voldemort! He's glowing just the same, but less brightly…" exclaimed Remus.

"This, my friends, is quite clearly not a good thing." Said Albus. "We can only hope that his body rejects the magic, as it is far darker than any he has ever seen before."

* * *

September 1, Voldemort and Lucy's guest chamber at Hogwarts

Voldemort looked down at his body as the last of the purple glow receded into his body. He lifted Slytherin's wand, and quickly waved it through the air. A larger quantity of familiar pink hearts than normal shot out, along with one pitch black heart, twice the size of the pink ones. Voldemort's eyes rose in glee. 'Now **that** is more like it!,' he thought.

He looked at Lucy's prone form. "_Enervate_." Lucy woke, rubbed her bleary eyes, and immediately leapt at Voldemort, trapping him in a surprisingly strong hug.

"Oh Voldy it's so good to see you I really missed you but I liked playing with these dresses they're really nice and we're at HOGWARTS Voldy! Hogwarts! I'm going to be a witch!" cried Lucy, before she raised her wand and began saying nonsense words, "Hooga Booga! Blibbery Poolery! _Boogio!_"

Voldemort's eyes shot forward to see Lucy's wand pointed right at him, with a very, very familiar glow burning at the tip. He dropped to the ground just as the Curse of the Bogies flew over his head, breaking through the three-foot thick, solid granite, north wall of their room and hitting a small blonde boy with no further bearing on the story in the back, causing thousands upon thousands of small holes to erupt from the back of his head, each oozing mucous-coated pustules of dry snot. He clawed at his head in a futile manner, only serving to coat his hand in boogers. His face began to take on an emaciated appearance, the boy clearly showing the effects of dehydration after expelling so many bogies. He tried to walk towards the bathroom, only to slip in still-wet piles of snot, cracking his head against the ground and passing out.

Voldemort turned back to Lucy, a look of supreme awe etched on his face. "Lucy, point your wand at that wall," Voldemort pointed to the south wall of the room, "and say '_Sanguofuore_'."

Lucy turned towards the wall, whipping her wand around in an arc. The wand emitted thousands of black sparks, each shaped like tiny scythe-blades, spinning towards the walls and embedding themselves like darts in a dartboard. "_Sanguifiore_!" cried Lucy.

The wall burst into bloom, as hundreds of blood red flowers erupted upon the wall, each oozing small quantities of a suspicious red liquid. Each flower was shaped like a heart, and every few seconds, some of the flowers would twitch, releasing a shower of the red liquid. The effects of the strange flowers could not be observed for long, however, as Voldemort heard footsteps outside the door.

Voldemort pointed Slytherin's wand at the wall and shouted "_Evanesco_!", clearing the wall of the flowers, the still spinning black scythe-sparks, and the floor of the flowers' suspicious cargo. Just as the mess disappeared, the door opened.

"Ah, To—Lord Slytherin, Lucy, it is good to see that you are well," said Dumbledore, "We have successfully transported all of your classmates to Hogwarts, and it is now time to begin the Sorting. If you would please follow this butterfly," Dumbledore conjured a large silver butterfly. Lucy's eyes lit up, "It will take you to the rest of your year, where you will wait for me to bring you into the Great Hall. Off you go! House Elves will take your belongings to whichever house you are sorted into."

"Thank you, sir," said Voldemort, "Is everyone alright from the crash?"

"Sadly, there were several fatalities – the driver, Harold Potter, died, along with the vast majority of the 6th year Ravenclaw class and one 1st year. Apart from that, there were quite a few students with serious injuries, who are being treated in the hospital wing."

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that, sir, but I do suppose that we must count our blessings that no-one further was injured or worse…" said Voldemort, "we'll just follow the butterfly, then. Goodbye, Professor!"

"Bye, Mr Dummydore!" said Lucy, "Come on, Voldy, the futterby is getting away!"

Lucy grabbed Voldemort's hand, and pulled him after the butterfly. Dumbledore walked to the next room, chucking. "Ah, young love," he said.

* * *

September 1, Hogwarts Great Hall

"Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts!" cried Professor Dippet, "I'm very much looking forward to getting reacquainted with all of you, and I'm especially excited to be meeting the new First Years! Professor Dumbledore, could you please begin the Sorting?"

"It would be my pleasure, Professor Dippet," said Dumbledore. He walked forward from behind the table, carrying an old three-legged stool and an even older, frayed, patched hat. He placed the hat on the stool, the stool on the ground, and then stepped back and watched with a large smile on his face.

The hat twitched, then a large rip spread from the center of the side facing the Great Hall. It turned on the stool, to face Professor Dippet, and said "Armando, my man, I've been thinking, and it's time we did something a little different for the sorting song. So, I've taken what you gave me to read out," A scroll of parchment appeared in front of the hat, "chewed on it for a while," the scroll flew into the hat's mouth, the rip making chewing motions, "came up with this." The hat spat out a large radio, which began blaring out a drum track, and with a wink to Professor Dumbledore, turned back to the Great Hall, and started singing:

_Now this is a story all about how,_

_Your lives get flipped, turned upside down._

_So just take a minute, sit right here,_

_And I'll tell you how I became the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts!_

_West Scotland, born and raised,_

_Hogsmede is where I spent most of my days,_

_Thinking, learning, playing it cool,_

_Watching as Godric founded a school._

_The Founders Four, you all know the names,_

_Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin – lame!_

_They gave me their smarts, and the power to find,_

_Exactly what's going on in your minds!_

_Gryffindor, brave, pretty darn rad,_

_Had a serious grudge against anything bad._

_He was brave and strong and courag-e-ous,_

_These are the kind Godric wants in his house._

_Ravenclaw, smart, her mind was quick,_

_Her late night study turned candle to wick._

_Clever, studious, and a passion for knowledge_

_Those kids, Rowena likes to encourage._

_Hufflepuff, generous, and always fair,_

_She made sure that all got a share,_

_Friendliness, loyalty, and kindness too,_

_If you're all that then Aunt Helga wants you!_

_Slytherin, cunning, devious and sly,_

_Despite the rumors, he's a pretty nice guy!_

_Planning, plotting, private and proud,_

_Salazar's bunch – no noise allowed!_

_So put me on, I'll see your mind,_

_As I've seen thousands in kind,_

_Don't be scared, I'm really kinda cool,_

_And once again: Welcome to Hogwarts School!_

When the Sorting Hat had finished, there was a deathly silence in the Great Hall, as if the students and staff were afraid to make any noise, lest the Hat continue singing. Eventually, Dumbledore broke the silence with a round of booming applause, which seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. The rest of the students quickly caught on, and soon Dumbledore was standing next to the hat with a large list of names.

"When I call your name, please step forward and place the hat on your head. Abbot, Rodger!"

A tiny boy with long brown hair ran forward and placed the hat on his head. He was almost trembling in fear that the hat would start rapping again, but before long, he was declared a "Hufflepuff!"

"Bones, Dennis!"

A broad-shouldered young man walked forward with style and grace, quite clearly a pureblood who had prior knowledge of the proceedings. The hat took a little longer, but eventually placed him in "Ravenclaw!"

Dumbledore continued down the list, with many people joining Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, but very few joining Slytherin. Voldemort planned to change that as soon as it was his turn, but first was…

"Spindle, Lucy!"

Lucy crept forward to the hat, and gingerly placed it on her head.

'_Why hello there, Lucy. I'm sure you're quite excited to finally be here?'_ said the Sorting Hat

Lucy gasped. 'The hat is talking in my head! What a creepy hat!'

'_I'm offended that you think so, Lucy, but I do have a job to do, so let's take a look-see… oh my, __**very**__ interesting…'_

'What is, you scary hat?' thought Lucy.

'_Nothing, dear, just your mind is quite the rich tapestry, that's all. Now, where to put you… Hmm. You know, I can't decide. You're definitely very brave, you showed that by following Mr. Slytherin around… You've got loyalty in spades, you're very cunning with your plans… and there's definitely a good head on your shoulders… but where to put you?'_

'I want to be with Voldy!' thought Lucy, loudly.

'_Owch! Not so loud!'_

'Voldy! Voldy! Voldy! I want Voldy!' thought-yelled Lucy.

'_Okay, okay, take me off and put me on Professor __Dumbledore's head.'_ Said the Hat, in depressed acceptance of the crazy girl's wishes.

Lucy lifted the hat off her head, and walked over to Professor Dumbledore.

"The crazy hat wants to talk to you, Professy Dubblemore." Said Lucy in a very sweet voice, such that Dumbledore couldn't find the heart to correct her.

"Thank you, Ms. Spindle. I shall return him to you in a moment, please take a seat on the stool." Replied Dumbledore.

'_What did you do to that poor girl's mind, you crazy old codger?'_ thought-yelled the Sorting Hat.

'I did no such thing, you senile old helmet!' replied Dumbledore, 'It must have been that Slytherin boy!'

'_Could that Slytherin boy be the "Voldy" that she keeps yelling for?'_ asked the Sorting Hat, for Lucy was sitting on the stool, quietly yelling "Voldy! Voldy! Voldy!"

'Why, yes, I do believe it is. He is Voldemort Slytherin, the heir of Salazar. Or so he claims, and so Gringotts believes, so for all intents and purposes, he is.' Replied Dumbledore.

'_Well well! Let me sort this noble scion of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin! I'll sort Ms. Spindle after sorting young Mr. Slytherin.'_ proclaimed the Sorting Hat

'Very good.' Thought Dumbledore, "Mr. Slytherin? Mr. Voldemort Slytherin? Could you please come and be sorted?"

Voldemort was momentarily taken aback – he had never known someone to be skipped at a sorting before. 'Lucy must want to be in the same house as I'm sorted into. That **will **make freeing the smart version of her much easier…'

Voldemort walked forward and accepted the hat from Dumbledore. He moved to the stool.

"Lucy, can you please move so I can sit down?" he asked sweetly, barely concealing his embarrassment at having to ask anyone for anything.

"Sure thing Voldy!" she jumped out of the way, to the laughter of the rest of Hogwarts. Voldemort dropped his glamour for a split second to blast the crowd with a tiny glimpse of his red eyes. The laughter stopped.

Voldemort placed the hat on his head.

'_Ah, welcome, Heir of Slytherin, welcome. I always enjoy speaking to the heirs of the Founders, it's like meeting my children, in a way. So, where to put you… Oh my! Lord Voldemort indeed! We have been a bad boy, haven't we, Tom?'_ laughed the Sorting Hat.

'Please don't call me that, my name is Voldemort.' Replied Voldemort.

'_Very well, my Lord, now, where to place you… Obviously Slytherin might be a good fit, as would Ravenclaw, with your massive intellect, but you've clearly been sent back for a reason, so I think it would be best to place you in…'_

Voldemort's Legilimency abilities could pick up what the hat was about to say, and nonverbally cast a silencing spell on it.

'Don't you **DARE** put the Lord of Slytherin in Gryffindor! My ancestor would be spinning in his grave at that insult! I should burn you here and now!' angrily thought Voldemort.

'_I do think you would do well in Gryffindor, my Lord, but very well, if that is your wish, then I have no choice but to place you in…'_

The magic of the Hat broke through Voldemort's Silencing charm as though it was wet paper, and announced its decision to the Great Hall.

"The Heir of Slytherin has decided to be sorted into Hufflepuff!"

* * *

You know, cliffhangers really are quite fun. They never really effect me when I'm reading stories, I tend to only read finished ones, but they sure are fun to write, knowing that people will be stewing for days waiting for me to post the next chapter. I guess I'm kind of a sadist, both for making you wait so long and for putting Voldemort (and Lucy) in Hufflepuff. But then, this has been my longest chapter ever (3250 words), I've written two chapters already today, and I'll probably write another as well, so you can't hate me too much. The Sorting Hat's song is obviously taken from the theme song to _The_ _Fresh Prince of Bel-Air_.

Thanks to getagum312 and the good dr. for reviewing, and to the 43 other people who read the last chapter without reviewing it. You're all super-duper-extra special!


	11. Hufflepuff

Undetermined Time, Ethereal Nothingness

Once again, there was silence throughout the Ethereal Plain – Voldemort had just been sorted into Hufflepuff.

"Voldemort…" began James

"… is a…" chortled Sirius

"HUFFLEPUFF?!" they yelled in unison.

This caused them both to break down into tears of laughter, rolling around on the ground, much to the consternation of those present. Lily looked down at her supposedly "mature" husband, supposedly a father, and watched him rolling around on the ground laughing at someone's choice of house, though she did have to admit that the Darkest Dark Lord Ever being in Hufflepuff was a bit funny.

Though not nearly funny enough to warrant **that** sort of behaviour!

Remus felt torn between acting his age and rolling around on the floor, laughing at the most terrifying Dark Lord in history being sorted into "let's all be friends and make daisy chains" Hufflepuff. In the end, the glares that Lily, and Severus were giving James and Sirius, respectively, were enough to make him reign in his hilarious side, and stick to being the mature teacher/father/mentor.

He knew that Tonks would love Voldemort's new house choice.

Severus kept his sense of humour tightly reigned in, occasionally slipping out a snide remark or a pithy, glib comment at a staff function, but as a general rule the greasy, batlike potions master would abstain from all humour-related activities such as laughing, chortling, rolling around on the floor, and heaven forbid, _giggling_.

An indeterminate amount of time later, however, when he was alone, he would roll around on the floor, laughing at the Dark Lord.

Albus watched the proceedings with a glimmer of a smile on his face, very much enjoying the fact that Lord Voldemort, the immortal heir of Slytherin, was sorted into Hufflepuff. He had always had high hopes for Tom Riddle, hoped that he would make a fine protégé, however that was not to be. Harry Potter had made a fine successor, and for that he was eternally grateful.

He later joined Severus in rolling around on the ground, laughing at the poor hand that Tom Riddle had been dealt by Fate.

September 1, Hogwarts Great Hall.

"The Heir of Slytherin has decided to be sorted into Hufflepuff!"

The Sorting Hat's words reverberated through out the Great Hall for several seconds before the words fully sunk in. Voldemort knew that once the Sorting Hat sorted someone into a house, there was no way to change that, so he rose sadly from his seat, handing the hat to Lucy, and resignedly walked towards Hufflepuff, who were cheering wildly at the fact that the Lord of Slytherin had **chosen** their house over his own! Never mind that he was the heir of the most evilest house in Hogwarts, they would welcome him just the same as everyone else.

It almost made Voldemort retch.

Just as he was sitting down, a note materialized on the plate in front of him.

_Dear Lord Slytherin__,_

_I wish to have your company for a discussion after the feast. If this is agreeable, look up at the head table as soon as you finish reading the note and nod your head, and I shall look forward to seeing you in my office shortly after the feast. _

_Yours,_

_Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_P.S: Fawkes, my phoenix, will meet you as you leave the Great Hall and will guide you to my office, then to your dormitories afterwards._

Voldemort was seething. Not only was he placed into Hufflepuff, house of idiots, slackers and people chock-full of free love, but the master manipulator himself, Albus-Ruddy-Dumbledore wanted to have a "discussion" with him after the feast, and will use his songbird as a tour guide, no less!

Voldemort hated phoenixes. His hatred did not even take his status as the most notorious Dark Wizard ever to live into account, or the fact that phoenixes abhor the Dark the same way that a Weasley abhors a Malfoy. He had always hated phoenixes, ever since the first time he saw Fawkes, in his second year at Hogwarts.

September 27th, 1939, Albus Dumbledore's office.

"Ah, come in Tom! It's very nice to see you!" exclaimed Dumbledore, as Tom Riddle walked into his office. "This is my companion, Fawkes. He is a phoenix, a magical species of bird. They are able to lift very heavy loads, transport themselves anywhere instantaneously, their tears have healing powers, and they are immensely loyal to those who they choose."

Tom was quite impressed with the magical bird. "Hello, Fawkes. My name is Tom, it is very nice to meet you." He extended a hand and shook the bird's talon.

"RAAAWWWK!" Fawkes screeched, then took to the air, flying around Dumbledore's office, making a terrible racket. "RAAAWK! RAAAAAWK!"

"Oh dear," said Dumbledore, the mirth clearly evident in his eyes, "I don't believe that Fawkes likes having his talons shaken, Mr. Riddle."

Tom glared at Dumbledore. "**RAAAWWK!!!**" screeched Fawkes, before dive-bombing Tom and hitting him right between the eyes with a fiery phoenix egg. The egg splattered on Tom's face, burning him horribly. The burn glowed with a fiery intensity, and seemed to shout out to all those nearby that Tom Riddle had severely pissed off Fawkes the Phoenix.

September 1, Hogwarts Great Hall

Voldemort was not looking forward to his meeting with Dumbledore, but in keeping with the role he was playing, he lifted his gaze to the staff table and nodded at Dumbledore. The paper incinerated, and a soft note of phoenix song was heard throughout the Great Hall. Voldemort gritted his teeth, and looked back towards the Sorting Hat, where Lucy was currently in the process of putting the Hat back on her head.

The Hat had barely touched her hair when it exclaimed to the Hall "Hufflepuff!" Lucy let out a squeal of glee, threw the Hat at Dumbledore, then sprinted down the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables and threw herself at Voldemort.

September 1, Albus Dumbledore's office.

"Ah, come in To—Lord Slytherin! It's very nice to see you!" exclaimed Dumbledore. "Now, tell me, how do you feel to be finally at Hogwarts? No doubt extremely relieved to be shot of your torturous muggle orphanage and hopeful that Hogwarts will provide a secure place of learning where nobody will call you a freak for being different, eh?"

Voldemort stared blankly at the Professor – that was exactly, word for word, how he felt when he got to Hogwarts the first time.

"Why, I bet you're so thankful to have escaped from that terrible place that you'd be willing to do anything for the person who informed you of the Wizarding World, would that be correct?"

Voldemort fidgeted a little in his seat – the intense glare that Fawkes was giving him was a little bit unnerving, almost as though he knew what Tom Riddle had done to him a year from now.

"So thankful, in fact, that you'd take anything I said as gospel and blindly follow me anywhere and follow my orders without question, lest I tell you that it was all a lie and return you to your squalid muggle orphanage?"

Voldemort was getting slightly confused by the way that Dumbledore was behaving – almost as if there was something that the old man needed to do, like he was looking for a protégé…

"You see, Lord Slytherin, there exists a prophesy,"

Voldemort froze, and started paying full attention to what the senile old coot was saying.

"that was delivered shortly before your birth, by our current professor of Divination, Professor Amus."

'Hold on, wasn't the prophesy given before **Potter**'s birth by **HIS** Divination Professor?' Voldemort thought

"This prophesy, I believe, concerns you, and an as-yet-unknown Dark Lord. Would you like to hear it?" asked Dumbledore

"Yes, sir, I would like to hear it."

"Very well, then." Dumbledore rose from his cushy chintz armchair, and walked over to a cabinet near the door to his chambers. He pulled from it a runed stone basin, which Voldemort immediately recognized as a Pensieve. However, to maintain his cover as a naïve student, he thought it best to pretend not to know what it was.

"Sir," began Voldemort, "What is that?"

"Ah, Lord Slytherin, this is a Pensieve. I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind. At these times, I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form."

"I see. So you will show me your memory of hearing this prophesy?" asked Voldemort.

"Yes, you clever boy, yes. We will travel into my memory to observe the prophesy being delivered." Dumbledore reached up to his temple, appeared to concentrate for a moment, then withdrew a silvery strand of what looked like hair from his temple, before placing it into the Pensieve. "Simply tap the bowl with your wand, and then touch the surface of the liquid inside, and you will be able to see the memory."

Voldemort did so, and found himself whisked away into Dumbledore's memory.

August 26, 1926, Hog's Head Inn, Hogsmeade

Voldemort found himself in a dingy, poorly lit room with a single table and two chairs, lit by candle. Dumbledore was sitting across from Professor Amus, who was obviously applying for the Divination position at Hogwarts. Why Professor Dippet elected to send Dumbledore rather than go himself eluded Voldemort for the moment, however, he would ponder that later, as Dumbledore was standing to leave.

"I'm terribly sorry, Nostrad, but I'm afraid that the position simply isn't right for you. Thank you for your interest, and goodbye."

Dumbledore walked slowly to the door, leaving a downtrodden Professor Amus looking at the remains of his roast chicken. Suddenly, the prospective Professor stiffened in his chair, and started speaking in a raspy voice.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to__ the heiress of the snake and a man coerced, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord shall attempt to break him, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_

Dumbledore turned around fully, and said "Mr. Amus, I believe there may be a position at Hogwarts for you after all…"

Voldemort found himself leaving the memory, and being whisked back to Dumbledore's office.

September 1, Albus Dumbledore's office

"Welcome back, Lord Slytherin. Now, am I correct in saying that your birthday is at the end of July?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yes, sir, my birthday is the 29th of July." Replied Voldemort.

"And tell me, what do you know of your parents?" enquired Dumbledore, "Anything that would label your father as 'the heiress of the snake', or your mother as 'a man coerced'?"

"Well, professor, given that I am the Heir of Slytherin, I would assume that one of my parents was also the Heir of Slytherin, and given that the prophesy says "heiress", I would assume that my mother was the Heir. Given that Slytherin's mark is most famously a snake, it would be fair to say that my mother was the Heiress of the snake." Answered Voldemort, inwardly cursing the prophesy for ruining his 'Tom Gaunt' backstory.

"Interesting… well, Lord Slytherin, do you feel that you have had attempts made on your life? Or perhaps, your will?" asked Dumbledore

'Only being placed in that stupid Orphanage,' thought Voldemort, "No, sir."

"Very well. Perhaps this prophesy does not apply to you, dear boy. Alas! However… perhaps…"

"Yes sir?" enquired Voldemort, who was getting rather apprehensive at the thought of another prophesy.

"Professor Amus gave another prophesy shortly after your birth, it may be more relevant to you. Would you like to hear it?"

'What the hell is going on here? Is this man **made** of prophesies?' thought Voldemort. "Certainly, sir, if it would aid you."

"Excellent, my boy! Now, tap the Pensieve again with your wand, and enter."

July 30, 1927, Professor Amus' office

"Well, Nostrad, I'm glad you've had such a successful year, and I look forward to many long years of working together," said Dumbledore, "but if you'll excuse me, I simply have to go to the infirmary to get something for this hacking cough I seem to be developing," Dumbledore drew deep, and delivered a thunderous cough that shook the walls of the tower, sounding suspiciously like 'fraud', "So, I must be off, if you have any questions, you know where I am."

Dumbledore rose to leave, keeping a wary eye on the Divination teacher, almost crab-walking from his seat to the trapdoor. Just as he had reached the rope ladder to his salvation from his incense-scented torture, Professor Amus gave an equally thunderous hacking cough, and began speaking in a very familiar rasping voice.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord Grindelwald was born yesterday at approximately 8:30 in the morning to Merope Gaunt.__ His muggle father, Tom Riddle, was absent, as he was believed to have been coerced into his relationship with Merope Gaunt. The child, Tom Marvolo Riddle (Tom for his father, Marvolo for his maternal grandfather), will be magical, and will be a Parselmouth. He will have black hair, deep blue eyes, and will arrive at Hogwarts in 1938. He shall have terrible power, but if guided properly by the appropriate Professor of Transfiguration, shall grow to use it for the light, and a golden age of prosperity will fall on the Wizarding World. If not, he will grow to be the destroyer of words, the consumer of souls, the defiler of lands, an incarnation of the fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse. Guide him well, Transfiguration professor… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord Grindelwald was born yesterday at approximately 8:30 in the morning to Merope Gaunt…"_

Professor Amus took a deep breath, presumably after reciting such a long, exact, prophesy, and woke up from his trance. Dumbledore, who was completely unfazed by the proceedings, nodded curtly to the Divination Professor, and slid down the rope ladder as if it was a fireman's pole, crying "Weeee" the whole time.

September 1, Albus Dumbledore's office.

"Ah, welcome back, Lord Slytherin. Now, tell me, did that prophesy fit you better than the previous one?" enquired Dumbledore.

"… Yes, sir, eerily so. Though that prophesy was nothing like the one before, the phraseology was all wrong, and it was far too exact. I believe that Professor Amus, and by extension, you, knew more about me before I heard this prophesy than I did." Lied Voldemort.

"Well, who are we to question the tapestry of Fate? Now, as that prophesy fits you down to a T, we need to start training you to vanquish the Dark Lord Grindelwald. I believe… yes, every night, straight after dinner, up until curfew, should do it. And of course, all day on Saturdays. Is that agreeable, Lord Slytherin?" asked Dumbledore

"Sir, if I may, perhaps a lighter load for my first year? I barely know any magic, surely it would take a while for those skills to build up to a point where I could train every night?" asked Voldemort, desperate to get out of this training, but not wanting to blow his cover by refusing the elderly professor's offer.

Dumbledore appeared pensive for a few moments. The time dragged on, the only noise in the office coming from the hundreds of small silver instruments haphazardly placed on shelves, desks, and small end tables, and from Fawkes clicking his beak threateningly at Voldemort. There were whirring noises, clicking noises, buzzing noises, humming noises, a literal symphony of distracting and annoying mechanical noises. Voldemort began to realize exactly why the elderly professor was so eccentric.

Just as the noise was reaching a fever pitch in Voldemort's (magically enhanced) ears, Dumbledore answered. "Yes, I do believe that you are right. We will begin your training in your 6th year, as Grindelwald is no threat to the world at the present time. Until then, however, you must practice your magic every night, you must be a model student, as you must be the best. Do you understand, Lord Slytherin?" responded Dumbledore.

"Yes, sir, I understand," replied Voldemort, who was swearing inwardly at catching the Professor's interest so early in his magical career, and so easily, "May I please be excused, Professor? I have classes tomorrow, and would like to be well rested for them."

"Certainly, Lord Slytherin, off you go! Fawkes will escort you to your Hufflepuff dormitories, as being a new student, you would have no idea where the Hufflepuff dormitories are," Voldemort had the distinct impression that Dumbledore was repeating the word 'Hufflepuff' simply to get a rise out of him. "Had we not had this discussion, you could have simply followed the rest of the Hufflepuff students to the Hufflepuff dormitories, but as we had many things to discuss, you will simply have to follow Fawkes, my phoenix, to the Hufflepuff dormitories to join the rest of your Hufflepuff classmates."

'Oh yes, he is definitely a crafty old bastard,' thought Voldemort.

"Now, if you have any difficulty reaching the Hufflepuff dormitories, or if any of the Hufflepuff students in Hufflepuff give you any trouble, I would like you to contact my phoenix, Fawkes," Voldemort also got the impression that he was mentioning his phoenix simply to spite the young Lord of Slytherin. "In fact, my new Hufflepuff, I do believe that I shall have Fawkes check in with you once a week in your Hufflepuff dormitories. I would suggest he do it in the Hufflepuff common room, however, Hufflepuffs are a naturally inquisitive lot, those Hufflepuffs, and as such I feel it would be best to communicate with Fawkes, my phoenix, in your Hufflepuff dormitory. Any questions, Lord Slytherin of Hufflepuff?" Dumbledore finished.

Voldemort grit his teeth, hearing something crack in the back of his mouth. He found himself thanking Satan that his Dark enchantments still applied, as his teeth regrew like those of sharks. He felt the tooth detach from his gum, and land on his tongue.

"No, sir," he said around the granite-like molar in his mouth, "I'm sure I will be alright."

"Very good. Carry on, my wayward Hufflepuff!" said Dumbledore cheerily.

Dumbledore's explanation of Pensieves is from _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_, as is the majority of the first prophesy given in this chapter.


End file.
